


Sand Through Her Fingers

by Six_Lily_Petals



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Play, Art, Betrayal, Demonic Possession, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Evil Inquisitor, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forgiveness, Loss of Trust, M/M, Manipulation, Multiple Universes, NSFW Art, Nightmares, Obsession, Redemption, Slow Burn, Spirits, Tags May Change, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 66,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition is falling apart.  It is on the edge of disaster due to the selfish tyranny of the Inquisitor.  The faithful have left, the few companions remaining are disgusted.  </p><p>Solas is desperate.  In the fade he finds council that offers him a solution, but also warns him that all magic comes at a price, this one especially.  Believing that anything is better than their present situation, Solas’ last ditch effort to save them all…works.</p><p>The Inquisitor’s body is now possessed by an omniscient spirit that wants to correct every misstep and hunt down those who left and bring them back, willingly, to the Inquisition.  The task is more difficult than can be believed when the Inquisitor slowly learns <em>why</em> they left.</p><p>Cullen is desperate to find hope, to put purpose in his life again.  Can he ever trust a possessed mage?  The epitome of what a Templar should never want.</p><p> </p><p>Chapters with * will have art.</p><p>Just looking for the smut?  Skip to Ch 17 </p><p>non-con chapter will be marked and not contain graphic descriptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Act of Desperation

The peace that had fallen on Skyhold over the past week had been a welcome one.  It presented the opportunity for Cullen to actually have a moment for quiet reflection.  _Why do I even bother?_  He rubbed at the scarred skin under his left pauldron.  The physical pain was gone, but in his mind it was as white hot as the day it was created.  Remembering the cause, his mind drifted back to three weeks ago.

***

Cullen had confessed his struggles with lyrium withdrawal to Inquisitor Harella Lavellan.  He still wasn’t sure what he had expected.  She berated him for being weak, for putting the soldiers at risk for his selfish pride.  Every dropped sword, every stumble she saw fit to hold Cullen personally responsible. 

That day in his office, her shrieks became impossible to expunge from his memory.  “I thought you were committed to the Inquisition!  What were you thinking?!”

Cullen realized his mistake in telling her and tried to recover by diving into his explanation.  “Inquisitor, as a Templar I was tortured by abominations, I was betrayed by my Knight-Commander.  Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?  I came here hoping to break that leash and fully dedicate myself to a noble cause.”

“Tortured by abominations?  That is nothing compared with what I will do to you if you try this shit again.  I understand that the number of deserters is increasing.  It’s one more reflection of your failure to live up to your responsibilities.  Is this too hard for you?”  She picked up a vial of lyrium from his desk and flung it in his face.  “Do your duty properly or you will find out what a blessing a demonic possession truly is.”

Later that evening, he awoke in the middle of the night to his body being pinned down into his mattress.  In the moonless night, he couldn’t see the faces of his captors, but he could tell by the smell that they were some of the hired mercenaries that were loyal only to the heaviest purse.  _At least she doesn’t control my men, yet._

A light appeared at the far end of his room from the glowing heat of an iron that had spent hours in a fire.  The poker dimly lit Harella’s face.    Her pointed ears and massively wide eyes were strikingly haunting in such a setting.  That grin was one he had seen many times before.  She wore it easily every time she sat on the throne and judged the condemned.  The joy she extracted at the suffering of others, whether the punishment was warranted or not, was sickening. 

“What are you doing here?  I have done as you commanded!”  He tried to twist out of the iron grip but their fingers dug in harder.  “I have taken up my regimen again.  There is no need for this!”

“Oh, I think there is Templar.  You wish to be free of a leash?  That will never happen.”  She loomed over him, then bent forward to roughly grab his jaw so she could run her tongue dominatingly up the side of his grimacing face.  “You belong to the Inquisition.  You belong to me!”

She stood and twirled the hot iron in her hand.  He didn’t wear night clothes so his chest was bare, offering no hindrance to her goal.  She used the poker to slowly, crudely draw the eye of the Inquisition onto the corner of his chest.  The searing tip carved deep valleys into the skin, the unique smell of burning flesh had one of the mercenaries gagging.  Cullen gave up trying to wrench himself away.  He lay still and simply accepted the disfigurement.  _This is all that I am meant for.  This is all I can expect out of life.  Nothing but the tool of others._ His only victory was that he did not grant her the satisfaction of hearing him scream.  Harella seemed to recognize his protest and pressed the iron deeper into his muscles.  Her cruel chuckle echoed off the walls like rain on a tin roof.  When the henchmen released Cullen as soon as she was done, he did not move.

“Thank you, your Worship.  There will be no further distractions, you have my word.”  He pulled the blanket back over himself and shifted in the bed feigning sleep.  He prayed to the Maker they would leave. 

“There had better not be.”  She threw the iron on the floor and left, taking the stench ridden lackeys with her. 

He would never admit it, but he had not slept in his chambers since. He used the extensive piles of work as an excuse for sleeping at his desk - in armor - with his sword. 

***

Cullen had decided to take the greatest advantage of the quiet the Inquisitor’s illness presented by scheduling training early in the mornings.  Training had to be early if he was going to use Seeker Cassandra.  It was the only way he would be sure she was sober enough to speak clearly and pay enough attention to the paces to ensure that the soldiers didn’t injure themselves.  She was not handling the decay of the Inquisition well.  Cullen had expected the Seeker to talk sense into the elf, guide her along the path as it were.  Instead, the Inquisitor’s actions destroyed Cassandra’s faith in the Maker, the state of the Inquisition left her feeling that the Maker had truly turned his gaze away from mankind.    

He walked up the stairs to the great hall where he had planned to meet with Leliana to discuss what would be done during the Inquisitor’s incapacitated state for the next few days.  They had hardly exchanged greetings when they spotted three servants dashing out of the door that led to the Inquisitor’s quarters.  They ran as if their lives depended on it.  _Knowing that bitch, it was probably more than a perception._

“Ah, it seems the beast has recovered.”

“Pity.”  Leliana managed the word in an even voice although Cullen knew it was meant in earnest.   “I suppose we should offer our felicitations that she is well, before she throws another tantrum.”

“Maker, don’t remind me.”  He ground out, rolling his left shoulder.  It had become a subconscious gesture which he was vaguely aware that he had adopted.  He pulled lyrium out of one of his pockets and drank a full dose, letting the comforting hum flow through him before he had to face the evil incarnate.  He threw the empty flask on the ground and the shattered pieces quickly blended in with the rest of the refuse that was commonly left behind by the less than scrupulous mercenaries that took up residence in the great hall.  As he and Leliana made their way through the great hall, Solas appeared at their side.

“Are you going to check on the Inquisitor’s health?”

Cullen continued his stiff pace.  “We believe she may be awake.  A few servants have already fled.  She is at least capable of making threats.”

Solas only nodded his head once and fell in behind the two advisors.  It was a quiet walk up the winding stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters.  The door had been left open in the servants’ flight.  There was sobbing coming from inside.  Cullen took a deep breath, not in the least interested to know what new drama, or new game Harella had concocted for her idle amusement. 

The trio found that Inquisitor sitting on bent legs in front of a shattered, full length looking glass.  She held a large shard in her right hand which she was using to dig into the palm of her left.  Solas rushed to the ground, kneeling before her and grasping her forearms to stop the destructive behavior. 

She tried to twist her arms free.  “It hurts!  I can’t get it out!  What is it?!”

Cullen and Leliana exchanged exasperated glances.  _This is a new one._   Cullen crossed his arms as Leliana clasped hers behind her back.  Both defensive gestures that braced the two for the oncoming assault of insanity they had come to expect from the unstable Inquisitor. 

Solas kept his eyes on the Inquisitor, searching.  “Do you know where you are?  Do you know who I am?”

Harella paused, tears still falling down her cheeks when she blinked.  She looked around the room with a vacant expression.  Had Cullen not known any better, he would have thought this was the first time she was seeing the room.  He scoffed audibly.  “Solas…”

“A moment, _please_ Commander!”

The Inquisitor had ignored the exchange to face Solas once more.  “Yes.”

Solas was visibly crestfallen.  He hung his head as he let go of Harella’s arms, his hands falling to the ground.  After a moment’s breath, she suddenly reached forward and grabbed Solas’ shoulders.  Her voice was hardly above a whisper, “Did you do this to me?  Did you trap me in this body?”

Solas became cautiously excited.  “Yes!  What do you…”

“What were you thinking!?”  Her screams were frantic, panicky.  She scrambled away from Solas, eventually deciding the retreat was too slow and resorted to standing.  “I don’t belong here!  Do you have any idea, any clue how wrong this is!?”

Cullen brought a hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose.  _Maker, this little fool will be the death of me._   “Inquisitor, we don’t have time for this charade.  May we please reconvene in the war room?  There have been pressing matters that have arisen since you fell ill.”  He was hopeful the prospect of ordering troops around would distract her from this nonsense.  She always loved placing the lives of others in danger. 

Solas cast Cullen an impatient glare, “Commander, she is in earnest.  She is not the Lavellan that we have known.” 

“What are you talking about mage?  You had better start making some sense.”  It was Leliana’s turn to voice her disgust at Harella’s juvenile behavior.  Her irritation further heighten by Solas’ catering to it. 

“It is no secret that the Inquisition in on the path to become a greater monster, a greater threat than Corypheus could possibly pose.  I have spent the past few weeks searching the fade for an answer, some alternative to prevent that from happening.  I cast a spell that was intended to have the Inquisitor…replaced.”

“You mean possessed?  What, by a fade spirit?”  Cullen moved his hands to the pommel of his sword, he anxiously gripped, and re-gripped the sword. 

Solas used his staff to help him stand up.  “The spell was unclear, so I’m not sure.” 

With the confirmation that Solas had no idea _what_ had taken up residence in the Inquisitor’s body, Cullen let a vicious grin spread slowly across his face.  He advanced on Harella then roared as he released a Holy Smite.  Her lithe body was easily slammed against the far wall and crumpled to the floor.

“NO!”  Solas rushed to her, cradling her head in his lap, looking for and healing damage.  “She is not an abomination!”

Cullen was unempathetic as he shrugged, resuming his stoic stance next to Leliana.  “I had to be sure.”  He noticed Leliana’s faint smile that she tried to hide.  _It seems I wasn’t the only one to enjoy that.  The filthy harpy deserved it._  

Harella was shaking on the ground, some of the scrapes even had blood beading in them before Solas finished with his repairs.  Although there was no question that Cullen attacked her, she still continued to address Solas.  “Why have you done this?  You have to send me back.”

“The Inquisition is falling apart.  We need to salvage what is left of Thedas to face Corypheus.  Our current path is nothing but doom.  You must understand that I was desperate to do what I did to you.  The previous Inquisitor had alienated allies, bullied followers and filled the army with nothing but thugs and mercenaries.”

The Inquisitor sat up, the words catching her interest as well as scrunching her face in confusion.  “Mercenaries?  You mean like the Chargers?”

Solas shook his head.  “The Iron Bull and his Chargers left a while ago.  As have the  Tevinter mage Dorian, and your Ambassador left for Val Royeaux and has not returned.  Others that have quit the Inquisition are Vivenne and Sera.”

“What about Cole?”

“I don’t know of anyone who goes by the name Cole.”  Solas looked to the advisors who had equally blank expressions.

The Inquisitor relaxed and sighed in relief.  “Thank goodness.  If you don’t remember him, it means he’s still alive.  He made you forget.”  Solas helped her to stand, her feet were still unsteady after Cullen’s attack. 

“You’re not believing this for a single moment are you?”  Cullen was becoming angry at having his time wasted in such a ridiculous manner.

It was Leliana’s turn to cross her arms.  “Of course not.  If this is some new spirit, how does she know everyone?”

“Consider, Commander the past few minutes.  None of us have referred to her as ‘your Worship’.  You attacked her viciously and she has not even commented on it.  We caught her trying to remove the one thing that grants her the power she has relished in abusing since she acquired it.”

Leliana rolled her eyes.  “We all know that she has an affinity for creating a spectacle out of boredom.  This is no different.” 

It was now that Harella finally acknowledged her advisor’s presence in the room.  She walked up to Cullen as if he were a wild animal that might be rabid.  Cullen felt his first pang of doubt.  She feared him.  He shifted his weight at the irritating thought and she flinched back away from him.  “Commander Rutherford…you.”  Her expression fell, her eyes widened.  “You look…terrible.”  Cullen sneered at her audacity to attempt looking at him with concern for his well-being. 

“I am able to perform my duties.  That is all you should be concerned about.” Her feigned sincerity was nauseating to endure.  She was the one who extended his nights with her frivolous requests.  She was the reason that he had to see to every little detail of the troops’ day since she had imprisoned or run off most of his Captains. 

She stood, contemplative for a few moments.  “Wait, Solas, you didn’t mention Blackwall.  Is he still here?”

Leliana chose to answer.  Venom dripped on each word to let her opposition to the decision be clearly conveyed.  “You used him to get close to Hawke’s warden friend and as soon as possible you _sold_ them to the Wardens who were hunting them down.  Hawke left after you broke his arm and attempted to set him on fire when he tried to stop you.”

“Oh, no.  No, no, no, no!  He’s with, they’re with Clarel?!  We have to get to him!  She’ll kill him!”  She turned to each advisor in turn, imploring them to believe her. 

“What leads you to that conclusion?”  Solas placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.  Cullen ground his teeth, seething as he watched Solas showing any modicum of compassion for her act.  She deserved no such attention. 

She gave Solas a confused stare.  “You have no idea where I come from do you?  You know nothing of my realm.”  She ducked her head to take a deep, steading breath.    “I am from a world that is far beyond the fade, the void even.  To me, all of this is lore, things that have happened in the past.  There are many possibilities for the way that events can unfold due to free will but this…this nightmare shouldn’t be possible.  There should be safeguards in place to prevent this from ever happening.”  She shook her head as if denial would change their circumstances. 

Solas continued to provide details that she pretended to not already know.  Cullen was nearing a breaking point as continued to observe her asinine behavior.  “It is even worse than having some of your companions leave or taken.  The army is rife with murderers, rapists, and villains of every sort.”  Cullen let out a subtle growl, but as much as it pricked his pride, he knew that Solas was right.  Many of those who had deserted didn’t have the stomach for the type of abuse that much of the army had inflicted on countryside.

The Inquisitor waved a weak hand toward Solas to have him stop talking.  She hunched over, cradling her stomach.  “I think I’m going to be sick.”  She sat on the edge of the bed, taking her head in her hands. 

Leliana nudged Cullen, obviously wondering what their next step should be.  He shook his head with no answer but lowered his voice for her ears only.  “At least the whelp quit crying.”

Harella raised her head, her eyes were dry and determination was set in her features.    She rushed to her feet in front of the mage.  “Solas, I cannot begin to tell you how much I hate you for doing this to me.”  Cullen waited to see her give him another black eye, but was surprised when it never came.  For the first time since he had met her in Haven, she controlled her anger while fisting her hands at her sides.  The shock was akin to watching a nug birth a dragon.  

“So, I’m the Inquisitor?  The first action for the day is to find a way to un-fuck what the other Inquisitor has done and quickly, so that there is still a Thedas left to save.  I agree Commander Rutherford, let’s go to the war room.”

 

 


	2. Unconvinced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When faced with the impossible, it is easiest to deny that it exists.

Solas led the Inquisitor with her hand on his arm to the war room.  When he opened the door to Josephine's old office, the Inquisitor paused as though she had been struck.  She took slow uncertain steps into the dark room.  The office was drastically different since Harella had taken up residence within.  The desk’s chair had been replaced with a custom one fashioned from goat skin and the ornamental clothing of the recently executed Chief Movran the Under.  She had originally wanted to use his hide, but was unable to find a tanner who could be sufficiently threatened into making such a gruesome fixture.  The Chief’s weapons were displayed over the fireplace as a warning to the dignitaries and nobles who met with the Inquisitor.  The only chairs that were offered to such guests were plain with no cushioning to ensure that there was no false impression of generosity.  The books had long been removed from the shelves lining the wall to the right of the fire and now housed priceless trinkets and begrudgingly given gifts that flagrantly displayed the Inquisitor’s vanity for all things that glittered.  The shelves behind her desk held daggers, grenades, and poisons that were clearly labeled; some even held large bubbles of air showing which indicated that they were used often.  At the center of her desk was her prized ocularum, the enchanted skull of a tranquil.  No one would ever mistake the room as a place of business.  It was the trophy den of a predator. 

Harella stopped once more as she passed the desk.  She pointed with an open palm to the silver and gem encrusted platter that held an artfully arranged morning meal complete with fruits, savory meats, glazed breads and a large chalice of spiced wine.  “I thought you said that Ambassador Josephine had left?”

Cullen’s mind reeled at her continued farce, amazed that she was still able to make his blood boil after all this time.  He honestly believed that he should be accustomed to it, or perhaps at least numb.  “This is your office now Inquisitor.  You have the servants deliver all meals to your office, quarters, and the great hall.”

She turned her head backward to look at him.  “They knew I would be here this morning?”

“No, you have them deliver trays to all three locations at each meal, every day.  Your reasoning was that you would never know your schedule and you refused to wait.  The meals are placed in the event that you _might_ be there.”

“So there are two other meals sitting out that no one will eat?”

“Yes your Worship.”  Whether it was his gruff response or the revelation that food was being needlessly wasted, her face became red hot with a flush he had only ever seen in anger.  The way she held her nimble hands to her mouth with disbelieving eyes had Cullen see the blush as embarrassment.  He brushed past her in his annoyance to take his place in the war room so that he may avoid any other inane questions about her hedonistic habits. 

In the war room he, Leliana and Solas spent the next two hours regurgitating current events.  Cullen ceased watching her expressions of horror and disbelief, they had become excessively annoying.  As tedious as the meeting was, it was infinitely better than most days and kept the Inquisitor from harassing anyone else in Skyhold.  _Small blessings._

Harella assumed a tone that indicated the beginning of the end of the meeting as she summarized the situation.  “Alright, the locations of Blackwall, Sera, Josephine, and Dorian are all unknown specifically, but you will be able to track them down?”

Leliana only nodded as Harella continued.  “Vivienne is safe back in Monsimard working to bring rebel mages back to the circle.  The Iron Bull and his Chargers are in Redcliffe, hired by Arl Teagan to recapture and hold Redcliffe castle from the Inquisition soldiers who had taken up residence there.”

Cullen agreed with this old news.  He watched the Inquisitor dry wash her hands nervously and take a few steading breaths.  “Commander Rutherford, could you please organize a troop of soldiers to replace half of the contingent that is in the Hinterlands?  I would like to have a new Captain put in charge that is not tainted by the misdeeds of his predecessor.  The soldiers who are relieved will return to Skyhold for re-training.  The ranks need to be cleaned out, their hands put to task on a moral, productive path which I know you can point them towards.”

“Yes your Worship.”  He sighed heavily at what he knew would be her next command.  “And when do you want the troops to retake the castle?”

“What?  No, they should be helping the refugees and assisting the Arl with any rule of law necessities.  I will go to the Arl and smooth over our relationship, hopefully form an alliance and in the meantime try to get The Iron Bull back.”

She said it so simply, as if she were going to market to pick up a few vegetables.  He and Leliana exchanged subtle glances that gave nothing away to Harella, but confirmed in both of their minds what the other was thinking.  _She is absolutely out of her blighted mind!_  

“Sister Nightingale, if you would please track down the others I would greatly appreciate it.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at the polite tone and decided to test this new behavior.  “At once.  However, I know that you, or your counterpart, had many dealings that were done out of sight of the Inquisition.  Perhaps if you could shed some light on what she has done, I may be more efficient.”

Cullen tapped Leliana’s toe to convey his approval.  Harella stared back blankly, “I’m sorry but I do not know to what you are referring.  If you need to go through my desk or quarters to find what you are looking for, be my guest.”

Harella looked at the two advisors, then Solas with unease in her stance.  For the first time, Cullen realized that he had been trained to wait for her curt dismissal.  In the absence of it, he felt off balance. 

Leliana broke the awkward silence.  “If that is all Inquisitor.”  She inclined her head in the barest of salutes and left the room without permission.  Cullen waited with baited breath but nothing happened.  No yelling, no spells, not even a muttering of curses under her breath at how Leliana had left without stroking the ego of the Inquisitor.  Perhaps this was a lingering effect of the illness that had kept the Inquisitor unconscious for a week. 

Harella’s voice broke through his line of thought.  “I would like to speak with Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

Solas nodded and began to lead the way.  Cullen made his way at a quick step to catch up with the pair.  “I will come as well.  I am required to check on the mages today and this is a good opportunity to do so.”

When they passed the doorway into the Inquisitor’s office, a servant was present who immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head at the Inquisitor.  She rushed into gentle corrections.  “Oh no, please stand.  That is unnecessary, please.”  Once the servant was on his feet, he still kept his eyes to the floor.  “Tell me, do you care for this room?”

“Y-yes, your Worship.”

“Good.  Please have all of these things boxed up and placed in storage.”  The servant’s head snapped up in surprise but was quickly cast back down as he nodded in acquiescence.

“At once your Worship.”

The threesome made its way silently to the dungeons where the mages were kept.  Magic dampening wards had been infused strategically throughout the dungeons to prevent the act of escape.  The Inquisitor’s choice of décor squashed any ideas of escape.

“Maker’s breath what are those doing there?!”  Harella gasped in disbelief, again playing the innocent to her own sadistic deeds. 

“They are the ocularum that were recovered from the stash found in Redcliffe.”  The hallway beyond the entrance was lined with the enchanted skulls, similar to the one that was on Harella’s desk, only these were much older. 

Harella’s voice became broken and unstable.  “They need to go, that is…unnaturally abhorrent.”

Solas explained their display with the same dead tone as he had used earlier that morning.  “She put them there as a reminder of what would happen should any of the mages ever disobey her.”

Not waiting for further instructions, Cullen rolled his left shoulder and drew his sword to bash the skulls clear of the walls.  Harella lunged for his arm.  “No!”  He kept his momentum on purpose to send her falling into the dirt, but deftly avoiding the skull.  For the second time in one day, he assaulted the most powerful woman in Thedas with impunity.  All he could think of his present situation was _odd._  

Harella got back on her feet with the help of Solas who was glaring at Cullen with as much rage as he could muster without hitting him.  “They were once people who were robbed of their life twice.  Please, there must be someone you can spare who can prepare them for proper funeral rites.”

Cullen sighed with a slight growl in his throat.  “Certainly, as you say Inquisitor.”

She then squeezed Solas’ hand and disappeared into the hallway that led down into the depths of Skyhold.  Solas verbally jumped on Cullen once she was out of earshot.  “What is the matter with you?  How much more proof do you need that she is not the monster that survived Haven?  Isn’t this what we all wanted?”

“I need more than empty words.  I don’t care how much she pretends to forget, it is going to take more than your word and some wishful thinking for me to be convinced.”

“And what will you do when she puts the Inquisition on the right path?”

“I will shake hands with the Maker because that will never happen.”  Cullen gestured at the keep with sword still in hand.  “This, all of this that we had barely begun to build is beyond salvation.  Accept it.  Stop wasting your faith on hopeless fantasies.”

Solas sighed, giving up his argument.  “Will you at least carry out her orders for the troop reorganization?”

“Of course.  Although it is a mostly futile effort since she will not stay in this state of mind.  It will at least allow me to get rid of some of the more insubordinate dregs.”  Tired of the conversation, Cullen abruptly turned and walked away.  He would inspect the mages later. 

Cullen made his way to the guest quarters and knocked on one of the doors, calling out to let his identity be known.  He waited only moments before he could hear a succession of locks being undone to admit him to the small room. 

“Commander.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”  Even though Varric was able to speak with the same uplifting tone as he had known from his time in Kirkwall years ago, Cullen knew he was afflicted with the same morose depression that seemed to sit on Skyhold like a stubborn rainstorm.  Varric took a seat in the only chair in the room and with a slight hand gesture offered the bed to Cullen which he refused, as Varric knew he would. 

“I’ve come to let you know that the Inquisitor has recovered and she plans to make a trek out to the Hinterlands.  She will be taking you, Solas, Cassandra and a platoon of soldiers.  She wishes to leave as soon as possible.”

Varric rose from his seat and began to gather a few of his belongings.  “A trip to the Hinterlands?  That works.  I have arranged passage back to Kirkwall and that will take me half way to the Storm Coast.  I’ll save you the trip Commander and let Cassandra know.  It’s always amusing to watch her stumble over her own feet this late in the day.”  He laughed at his own joke and continued to pack.

Cullen stepped forward and lowered his voice.  “After what happened to Altus Pavus, I would recommend that you not inform the Inquisitor of your intentions to leave.”

Varric chuckled.  “Yeah, no shit.”  He paused his packing.  “I will regret leaving you here.  Are you sure you don’t want to come home?”

“Kirkwall is no more my home than Skyhold is.  At least here I can be put to use.” 

“ _Hmpf_.  Suit yourself.”  He gave Cullen a hearty handshake that meant as much as a sympathetic hug between friends.  “I’m sorry Curly, truly.  I wish you luck.”

Cullen only responded with a stiff nod and left the dwarf to finish his tasks in privacy. 

 

Late that evening Cullen and Leliana stood on the battlements to watch the Inquisitor and her party leave the castle.  Leliana leaned forward on folded arms against a merlon.  She kept her face to the horizon as she spoke.  "Don't get your hopes up."

Cullen released a heavy sigh.  "Have no worries on that account.  I wouldn’t recognize hope if you force fed it to me."  He quirked a suspicious brow to Leliana.  "I’m guessing that you didn’t warn her about the Chargers?  I know that none of her current companions have any idea what transpired the night that they left."

"Certainly not.  She has played enough games with us.  It was her pettiness that drove Josephine away, for which I will never forgive her.  I will not waste this opportunity.  I look forward to her attempts to regain broken alliances.  There shouldn't be too much difficulty in tracking everyone down and it will be interesting to see which of them kills her first."

Cullen leaned his hip against a merlon and supported his torso on his elbow, clasping his hands together.  He crossed one leg over the other a rare moment of ease.  "Maim would be preferable, keep in mind we still need the mark.”  A thought surfaced to the forefront of his mind.  “Will you still go through with your plans with Gaspard?"

Leliana stood to face him.  “Yes.  This changes nothing.  Are you having second thoughts?”

Cullen suddenly became fascinated by his gloves and played at the groves between his fingers, pressing them tighter to his skin.  "You just tell me what the Inquisition needs done."  

"You are not concerned about my methods?"

He now resumed the commanding stance he adopted long ago when receiving orders.  "No, it is none of my concern.  I am a weapon of the Inquisition, you simply point me in the right direction and it will be done."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlon - the solid upright section of a battlement  
> Embrasure - the opening in a battlement between the two raised solid portions or merlons


	3. What Does a Demon Call an Evil Darker than Itself?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor begins to spread seeds of hope while discovering why the Chargers left the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the non-con chapt. Not graphic but throwing out the warning just in case it is a trigger.

On the fifth night of their journey to Redcliffe, Varric cornered Solas, wanting him to explain why the Inquisitor was acting out of sorts as he was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by her sudden change in attitude.  It took a great deal of prodding and the revelation that he was leaving Skyhold permanently to get Solas to talk.

His explanation was one archdemon shy of a blight.  Varric was doubtful to say the least.  “So what happened to the other Inquisitor?”

Solas crossed his arms in an attempt to shield himself from Varric’s censure.  “It doesn’t matter, she is gone.”

“Gone forever?  Or just gone for the time being?”  Varric held up his hands defensively.  “Now, I’m not claiming to be an expert on the fade or any other spirit shit, but it sounds like you have no idea what you’ve done.”

“You speak as if there were time to spare, time to weigh options.  There isn’t.”

“Well, at least you’re right on one point.”

The clinking of glass drew their attention to Cassandra sitting with her back against the trunk of a tree a good distance from the fireside.  Her preference at the moment was to rely on liquid warmth instead of the fire, probably in order to avoid any conversation with them or the soldiers who traveled with them.   

Varric looked for the Inquisitor and spotted her just beyond the light of the camp.  He had to admit to himself that this was the easiest trek that he’d ever endured with the volatile elf.  Intrigued by Solas’ claims, he approached her with no attempt to mask his steps.  The last thing he wanted to do was startle a lunatic mage.  Considering how well the day had gone, he decided to chance Solas’ claim, “Your Inquisitorialness.”

A foreign sound trickled quietly out of her as her shoulders shook.  _Andraste’s flaming ass, was she giggling?_  

“Hello Varric.”  She then sat down in the tall grass and ran her finger tips along the green blades.

“So, Chuckles over there says you’re some sort of spirit?”  He remained standing, his hands prepositioned to easily unholster Bianca.  He was going to err on the side of caution when it came to what how Harella would react. 

“Something like that.”  Her hands now found a small patch of dirt where she used her finger tips to draw idle designs.  She kept her attention on the grains of sand as she spoke.  “I have always observed the lives of others, never knowing the scent of a breeze or the heat of the sun.”  She raised her head, “Now that I am here, in this plane, it can be overwhelming to the senses at times.”

Varric could have described her tone as demure and the moment as peaceful had he not known her for months.  He had seen how she manipulated people, how she enjoyed the suffering of others and her sadistic imagination knew no bonds.  At the moment, her behavior was fucking frightening.  “Captian Roche talked to me earlier tonight.  He said that you are trying to put the Inquisition to good use, even a partnership with the Arl’s men.  Is that right?  Why?  It's over Spirit, there is no recovery from this.  Why would you try to save it now?”

"You know, it never occurred to me to even ask that question."  Her eyes darted to check their surroundings.  “When I mentioned that touching things was an assault on my senses, new and powerful, I meant my emotions as well.  It physically hurts to see the world like this, to learn what the other Inquisitor has done…I feel as if I am living in a diseased body.  Each day is torture and I can’t leave it like this.  We need to rebuild our strength and I have to bring back those good people who were wronged.”

“Bring people back.  A handful of people whom you feel oddly attached to are going to make that significant of a difference?”  He chuckled with actual mirth at the bizarre thought.

“Yes.  Corypheus is one person but it is his army that poses the threat.  That is people.  The Inquisition is not a person, it is people.  Otherwise it is no more than a meaningless word if there are no people to make it a reality.”

There was no change in tone or gesture passed between them, but Varric knew when a conversation was over.  He made his way back to the camp fire.  He was aware that there was bad blood between the Chargers and the old Inquisitor, but whatever had sparked it, was bad enough that no one talked about.  Checking his surroundings, he found Solas already retired for the night in his bedroll.  He chose to harass his second choice of company. 

Cassandra lifted her head at his approach.  “Cozying up to the _Herald_ are you?”  She said ‘Herald’ in a manner that betrayed her hatred for her shattered beliefs.  As though she were more upset at herself for losing faith, than the Inquisitor for breaking it.  “I never pegged you as a kiss ass.”

“Well, certainly not your ass, Seeker.”  Varric crouched down to face her at eye level.  “Have you talked to Captain Roche about his conversations with the Inquisitor?”

“Pft!  As if I care what some blood thirsty criminal talks about with that woman.”  Cassandra’s head rolled with lack of control against the tree trunk when she spoke.

Varric crept closer, “Perhaps you should.  He’s not quite the criminal that the Inquisition typically employs.  The orders that she has been giving him…aren’t her normal kill and pillage trademark.  The Captain came to me concerned that his philanthropic orders were a cover-up for some other devious dealings.  You should have seen the look on his face when Solas assured him she was being genuine.”  Now Varric had her attention.  He laughed inwardly as he caught that she wasn’t as drunk as she had made herself out to be.

“Are you sure?”  She leaned back further against the tree, dismissing the idea.  “No, it can’t be possible.”

“I’m telling you Seeker, I’m not sure what to think, but I do know that when this group of soldiers shows up at the Hinterlands camp, they will actually be ordered to help people.” 

Cassandra suddenly rose up on fairly stable legs.  She pointed at him accusingly.  “That is bullshit!”

Varric watched her head to the other campfire and start up a conversation with Captain Roche.  He knew how it would go and that Cassandra would have no choice but to believe his assertions. 

***

The group arrived at the Hinterlands camp in the morning and immediately set to work.  Cassandra had become joined at the hip with Captain Roche.  Both made quick work of reorganizing the soldiers efforts, enforcing swift discipline for noncompliance, and re-establishing good faith with the villagers. 

They had spent two days turning the world right-side up for once.  The Inquisitor had wanted to meet with the Arl the first day they arrived but in typical way of the ‘game’ that nobles so enjoyed playing, he was making her wait.  On the third day, Varric and Cassandra spotted Arl Teagan speaking with Captain Roche in the market and noticed one of the Chargers, Skinner standing nearby, most likely serving as a bodyguard for the Arl.  Varric didn’t have much time back at Skyhold to get to know the mercenary, but did remember that he took easily to idle conversation and even easier to drinks.

“Seeker Pentaghast.”  The Arl greeted Cassandra amicably and nodded to Varric.  His demeanor was reserved as if he were waiting for a trap to spring.  “The Captain here tells me that the Inquisitor is restructuring the army.”

“She has requested it, but she is following Commander Cullen’s recommendations.  I was told that we would not be able to meet with you until tomorrow.”

“Yes, so I thought as well, but the rumors that I had received in the short time since your arrival sparked my curiosity that I had to come and investigate first hand.”  He turned back to the Captain and shook his hand.  “Thank you Captain Roche, if you need anything further, Ser Perth will be able to assist to the best of his abilities.”

The Captain left with a salute and Arl Teagan waited for him to be out of earshot.  “This is certainly odd.  Assistance for the refugees, cleaning out the ranks, open dialogue, I find myself wondering when I will wake in the dungeons of Skyhold in a drugged stupor.”

Skinner shifted his weight in uneasiness.  “This isn’t natural.  No one simply changes like that.”

Cassandra and Varric exchanged looks.  What was there to tell them?  Neither of them really believed Solas’ story, but it was difficult to deny that she was changing things not only for the better, but in a manner that would make it difficult to return to the way things were. 

Varric shook his head.  “I don’t know.  It definitely freaks me out as well.  Did you know she actually came here to try and recruit the Chargers back to the Inquisition?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”  Skinner closed his eyes and sneered.  “After what she did?  I thought she was crazy but I never imagined that she was nug-shit insane.”

Varric scratched at his chin thoughtfully.  “Yeah, we all know you guys left in a hurry but no one ever knew why.  She asked me last night and I couldn’t come up with anything.”

“She…no.”  Skinner was seething and almost shaking as he restrained his anger.  “She is acting as if she doesn’t remember what she did!?”

The Arl had become visibly uncomfortable with the down turn of the conversation.  Cassandra offered him an out.  “Arl Teagan, I have yet to meet Ser Perth.  I have a list of a few requisitions that may require his assistance.” 

They left together and Skinner moved into an ally between buildings that would prevent his voice from carrying too far.  “We had not been at Skyhold for more than two weeks when these shitty Rivani mercenaries came in, another ‘acquisition’ of the Inquisitor’s.  They were trying to stir up trouble in the tavern so Grim and Krem left before things escalated.  Apparently the Rivani had somehow taken offense.  They caught up with Grim and Krem before they made it back to the barracks.  We had already figured that going anywhere alone was dangerous, but didn’t take into account overly drunken conviction.  Three men and two mages jumped 'em.  Wanted to settle some argument from the tavern, said they were going to shut ‘em up by giving them ‘a big something’ to stuff down their throat.  The harassing catcalls drew the Chief’s attention.  He caught one of the guys with his pants already half off and with his grubby hand fisted in Grim’s hair, trying to force him closer.  Like a pissed off idiot, the Chief rushed them and didn't see the mages who knocked him on his ass.  At this point that fucking she-demon popped out of the shadows claiming the Chief had ruined her fun.  That conceited shit said that he needed to learn some humility.  She threatened to have the boys killed if he didn't heel like some blighted domestic beast.  Had those Rivani fuckers pin him down while they cut off a horn.”  Varric paled as the blood drained from his face and bile threatened to creep up his throat. 

Skinner growled in anger at the memory, staring at the ground.  “Chief said that when someone cuts through your bones, it leaves your teeth tasting the metal of the blade doing it.  It’s really fucked up.” 

His attention then snapped back to Varric.  “They were about to start on the other side when the Commander showed up.  He crushed the two mages with some Templar fuckery which left Krem and Grim free to slit the throats of the assholes sitting on the Chief. They were about to take out that green witch when the Commander stopped ‘em.  He tried to start into some talk about level heads, but before he got two words out, the Inquisitor laid into him with her staff.  She blamed him for the lack of discipline shown by the dead Rivani and then got in a few more solid hits telling him that he needed to get his shit together.  The straight-laced Commander, of all people needing to get his shit together?”  Skinner scoffed then hung his head in sympathy.  “That tough son of a bitch stood there and took it.  I've held men who have died painful, gruesome deaths from being literally torn inside out.  Chief said this was worse.  Have you ever watched someone’s soul die?”

“Maker’s balls.  And I thought Sera had it bad.”  Varric began to wish he hadn’t asked.  He wasn’t even sure why he was interested.  By this time tomorrow he would be leagues away from never seeing this side of Thedas ever again. 

An explosion spun their heads towards the castle gates.  They were both at a dead sprint by the time the second explosion went off.  At the gates they found the rest of the Chargers shouting encouragement as Krem was giving the Inquisitor a beating that would make a giant cringe.  There was a barrier erected around the two that prevented either of them from leaving the domed area and anyone else from interfering.

Solas was the one who had tried to break through with the explosions.  “Dalish!  Drop the barrier!”  Solas ran over to her once he conceded that his magic was doing nothing.  “That is not the Inquisitor, it is a spirit!  She has nothing to do with what occurred!”  He spun on Skinner now, pointing at a blood splattered Krem.  “You have to stop him!”

The Chargers turned to Skinner, curious what his assessment was.  He merely shrugged, stating, “The Arl wants to talk to her, drop the barrier Dalish.”

She swallowed and finally revealed the truth.  “I didn’t conjure the barrier.”

All attention returned to the fight that was decisively one sided.  Krem continued unrelenting, the barrier flickering momentarily with each hit.

“Andraste’s tits!  She’s holding it up!”  Varric stepped back as if the barrier would leap out and suck him into the fray. 

By now the commotion had drawn the attention of the Arl and Cassandra.  They rushed to the group while Cassandra cleansed the area of magic allowing Solas to dash in between the crumpled mass of bloody flesh on the ground and the irate mercenary.  Grim and Stitches came to Krem’s sides and eased him away.  Stitches was becoming visibly shaken.  “We need to get out of here before she recovers or we’re all dead.”

Krem’s chest heaved at the exertion.   His face smeared with blood as he wiped sweat away.  The twisted anger on his face didn’t ease when Stitches reminded them all that before them lay the mage that had singlehandedly murdered and blackmailed her way into power.  Varric recognized the face of vengeance and he wanted more.  He needed payment in blood, to the void with consequences.

The battered elf moved, testing the strength of her arms and ended up smashing her face into the stone ground when they failed.  The tension in the air connected each person present, placing them on the knife’s edge wondering how bad things were going to turn and yet, they were too dumbstruck by the situation to run in self-preservation.  Solas knelt by her side and was waved away when he attempted healing magic.  She only allowed him to help her to her feet, her eyes twitching as they struggled to focus. 

“Inquisitor?”  Arl Teagan braved the unknown to force her next move.

She gave him a confused quirk of the head.  “Arl Teagan?  I thought we were meeting in the morning?”

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.  _What is this?!_   The Inquisitor’s calm demeanor and comments stunned the group.  If Varric had closed his eyes he could have never guessed that it was a leaking punching bag that was talking instead of some stately noble. 

The Arl looked to Cassandra and back again, unsure with his words.  “We, we are.”

The Inquisitor nodded her head and then whispered something to Solas that had him supporting her efforts back to camp just outside the town. 

Grim broke his customary silence which jarred everyone.  “What the fuck just happened?”  The Chargers now looked at Varric and Cassandra. 

Varric shrugged his shoulders.  “Don’t look at me.  I’m just as confused as you are.”

“We’ll go talk to the Inquisitor,”  Cassandra pointed to the gathered Chargers.  “one of you find the Iron Bull, he’ll want to know what happened.”

Back at the camp, the Inquisitor laid curled up on a pile of bedrolls that Solas must have ‘borrowed’ from their traveling companions.  He sat at her side and asked again to allow him to heal her.

“I don’t want any healing right now.  I want this body scarred.  If she ever comes back I want there to be a memory of what she should have endured.”  She grabbed Solas’ hand, her grip slipping over the red ooze caked on her skin.  “Remove the vallaslin.”

Solas retracted his hand in surprise.  “I’m not sure you know what you are asking.”

“You and I both know that the blood writing honors no one.  I want it gone.  I will not face any more trials marked as a slave.”  Solas nodded and placed a hand on her head, the tattoo fading slowly until no trace remained.  With a sigh, Solas sat back to watch the Inquisitor suffer from her unwarranted wounds until he caught sight of Varric and Cassandra approaching.

“Today wasn’t exactly the best of days.”  Varric attempted some levity, but it fell far too short.  “I suppose that was a ‘no’ from the Chargers then?”

The Inquisitor spoke her words into the ground, not venturing irritating her injuries with frivolous movement.  “There is nothing that can ever be done to atone for what they endured.”

“It appears that today will not get any better.”  Cassandra produced a few missives from her pocket.  “I have gotten word from Leliana.  We know where Dorian Pavus is located.”

The Inquisitor’s head perked up as best as her torn body would let her.  “Really?  Is he alright?”

Cassandra frowned ruefully.  “The news is...not good.”

 


	4. Blood Rituals and Tevinter Magisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition has tracked down Dorian Pavus but finds that he is in serious danger.

Inquisitor Lavellan,

I must applaud your efforts in establishing a formidable presence in the South.  I am pleased to know that my son will be returned to my care where he may learn to take on his familial responsibilities.  Although I am not pleased with your choice of courier, at least I know that they will be efficient and discrete.  Once Dorian is retrieved from Val Chevin, I will leave a retainer there to expedite future communications as we finalize the details of our alliance. 

I do recognize that Dorian is a willful child, but I want to ensure that you have conveyed my request that he is returned to me unharmed.  He is not the typical cargo that your contacts are accustomed to transporting.  I look forward to our joint ventures after I have my son in hand.

 

Respectful Regards,

_Halward Pavus_

 

Harella read through the note a second time while she sat on the ground, Solas stood at her side.  She had a feeling that his would be a constant presence considering the events from earlier.  She looked up at Cassandra who was shuffling through a handful of small missives.  Ever since arriving in the Hinterlands, Cassandra stood straighter and her eyes held purpose.  Harella remarked to herself how pleasant it was to see confidence in the warrior once again.  “According to Leliana’s informants, the couriers referred to in the letter are slavers.  They were last seen at a port north of Orzamar, possibly taking passage to Val Chevin from there.” 

 “Familial responsibilities... no.  He can’t seriously be considering that…”  Harella caught herself speaking aloud.  “I have to go after him.”

“You cannot be serious.”  Cassandra ran a hand through her short hair, hardly disturbing the snug arrangement.  “That is a waste of time.  There is no possible way that you would be able to convince him to stay, assuming that you were able to catch up with the slavers and somehow rescue him.”  She began to pace in angered silence which eventually boiled over.  “You cannot do this to me!  You cannot show me what we _should_ have been doing all along and then abandon those efforts for some foreigner!” 

“Which is why you are not going.”  She was visibly stunned at Harella’s words.  “Cassandra, I need you to stay here and assist Captain Roche.  The last thing we need is for someone to try and take advantage of his being new to this posting.  Also, you will be the liaison for any dealings with the Arl.  We need a partnership and I don’t want him to try and push out the Inquisition in an attempt to take advantage of the change in methods.  He lacks the resources to properly care for the refugees on his own.”

“This is ridiculous!  Are you seriously suggesting that you and Solas are going to face down slavers working for a Tevinter Magister?”  Varric nearly laughed at the absurd statement.  “I suppose you have forgotten, or don’t know, what you did during Dorian’s unpleasant stay with the Inquisition?” 

Harella reached a hand up to Solas who helped her to her feet.  She looked to Solas who elaborated, “When Alexius was in custody, Dorian asked for mercy.  He suggested having Alexius as an agent in the Inquisition so he could continue his arcane studies.  Instead, Harella had him made tranquil.  She let him wonder the library for two weeks before Dorian finally convinced her to remove him.  Apparently seeing his mentor suffer a fate worse than death wasn’t enough since she had him beheaded a short time later.”  Solas’ calm delivery began to waver.  Anger clouded his features.  “She had his skull made into an ocularum that she had gift wrapped in a box that she gave to Dorian.”

Varric chimed in to add further clarity to the gruesome account.  “I had never seen a grown man get sick like that in public who wasn’t drunk.  I’m sure it didn’t help that you kicked him while he was doubled over and laughed at his ‘weak stomach’.  He tried to leave right then until you threatened to have the same thing done to Felix.”

With a sneer, Cassandra added, “It is the same ocularum that currently sits on your desk.”

“That doesn’t matter now.  I know what they plan to do to him.  Halward is a desperate man and we’ve already seen what lengths such people will go to.”  She only gave a brief glance to Solas who did not react.  “He wants his son to marry and produce heirs and to do that, Halward would have to _change_ Dorian.”  She shuddered at the thought and was at least relieved that her companions had similar disgusted reactions.  “I cannot allow it.” 

She grasped Solas’ shoulder for support and walked to where he had rested her staff against a tree.  With her back facing Varric, she spoke to his earlier statement.  “Solas and I.  Am I to assume that you will not join us?”  She began to feel dejected.  How is it that Cassandra was able to trust her intentions and not Varric? 

There was hesitation, even some guarded fear in his answer.  “As I said, this is a lost cause.  Dorian will not be forgiving even if you manage to save him from his father.  I have already booked passage across the Waking Sea.” 

Each step she took forward seemed to be followed by ten steps back.  Harella didn’t miss that he withheld the location, possibly attempting to disappear from the eye of the Inquisition all together.  She patted Solas’ shoulder and with a steading breath, took the first steps of their long journey.  “As you wish.  Maker watch over you.”

***

Harella and Solas watched the docks, hidden in the nearby alley.  They had arrived in Val Chevin the day prior and through subtle questioning, they were not able to discover where the slavers were staying but did know that a ship from Tevinter was expected.  She and Solas decided that it had to be Halward’s ship and the only way to find where Dorian was being kept, was to wait for it to dock and follow them.  After that, there was no plan. 

For what seemed like a countless time, Harella cursed her borrowed body.  Her eyesight was poor in comparison to what she was accustomed to.  Interactions with people were difficult without the insight into their thoughts.  She had to rely on body language and voice tone to determine moods and even then she knew that she was a poor interpreter.  The body itself was an annoyance.  Not only were her senses constantly finding new sensations, but she _felt_ mortal.  Her flesh-made prison was dying.  Not in the sense that she was poisoned or ill.  It was a simple matter of biology, the body had a short time allotted and she could feel the slow decay.  She did not know how anyone could stomach the feeling.  Perhaps they ignored it, or lived with it for so long they were numb to it. 

She chanced a quick look at Solas.  The sight of him still enraged her.  He had no right, none, to interfere with what fate had dealt this world.  And yet, here she was, doing precisely what she hated him for.  In her realm, she did not have the ability.  Her role merely that of observer, sifting through the many strands of potential outcomes, but the pain she felt in this possible universe was torturous.  It crawled under her skin and clawed at her bones, a darkness that pierced into the crevices of her mind and wanted to feast on any thoughts of hope.  Of the few thousand possibilities that she had witnessed, nothing compared to this chain of events.  Everything felt wrong. 

At long last, she saw Halward Parvus and a small handful of servants disembark from a ship.  She tapped Solas and gestured so that he could identify their target.  They watched multiple figures gather in a group, their conversation too far away to hear.  A crack of lightening flickered in the night to announce the sudden downpour.  The chill of the rain in combination with her nerves made her muscles twitch and shiver.  This was insane, absolute and complete madness. 

The sounds of the storm had them keeping pace with the Tevinter Magister easily.  After a quarter hour, the entourage disappeared into the crumbling ruins of an abandoned temple in the woods outside of the village.  She and Solas waited only a few moments to allow the group to be far enough in the ruins as to not notice their arrival.  The tight hallway was not lit, but the way ahead was made clear by the glow of torches in a far off room.  At the end was a small vestibule that had doors that branched off into several different directions.  She and Solas split up to listen at each one until Solas motioned he had found the one.  They continued their silent intrusion down another dark hall that soon opened to a massive room.  The room was filled with columns as it was most likely deeper underground than she had thought.  The benefit of such a layout was that it enabled her and Solas to creep into the room with plenty of opportunities to stay hidden. 

Three rows of columns toward the center of the room, there was a clearing that could have accommodated a small cottage.  Two distinct groups faced each other, neither trusting the other. 

“Where is my boy?”  Halward’s voice was travel weary and thick with a Tevene accent.  He was uncomfortable with the common tongue, not for lack of knowledge, but from disgust at those who used it.

A cocky Antivan sauntered forward, clearly the head of the group of slavers.  He snapped his fingers and two men dragged Dorian forward, each roughly holding an arm as the rest of his body hung loose between the two men.  He was unclean with obvious bruising and scratches plaguing his otherwise perfect features. 

“What is the meaning of this!?  Was I not clear that he should be treated with the respect due an Altus!?”  Halward was furious.  His anger had his servants, _probably slaves_ , flinch instinctively. 

“Yes, well.  He proved to be most difficult.  Be thankful the Inquisitor hired us as we have an ex-Templar.  Any other band would have been forced to kill him.  It was difficult enough to keep him drained of mana, but it has been easier of late since we stopped feeding him two days ago.”  He gave Halward a wicked smile.  “Interesting to find out that he wasn’t as eager as you for this little family reunion.  Now, about my payment…”

“The Inquisitor has already paid you!”

“Well, I don’t see her here, do you?  I might have a change of heart, take pity on a poor man who doesn’t seem too keen on going home.”  If he was going to say anything else, it was lost when the Magister crushed the area with a spell that sliced through the air, cutting open the skin of the slavers in punishment for their attempted betrayal. 

Halward turned to one of his slaves.  “Prepare him.  I will not waste any more time.”  The flurry of activity revealed that two of the slaves where actually mages themselves.  Glyphs were activated on the stone floor, Dorian laid out meticulously among them.  Harella eyed Solas in a panic.  _What do we do?_   He shook his head in resignation, letting her know that he had no options to offer.  _Great._

She took a deep breath and let her mind wonder into the back recesses where she knew the old Inquisitor’s spells were kept.  She touched them with her mana and was suddenly unnerved.  She gasped at Solas who instantly gave her a reproving look before they were attacked.  The other mages had felt her tapping into her mana, giving away their hiding spot.   She and Solas scrambled in opposite directions.  In an act of self-preservation, she lashed out against her attackers.  She targeted one of Halward’s companions.  He screeched in horrific pain as all of the blood in his body was ripped out through each pore in his skin.  A sack of skin containing a man’s skeleton crumpled to the floor.

A blood mage.  Harella Lavellan was a blood mage and a powerful one.  She felt dizzy at the realization.  It did help to explain a great many things.  None of which she could contemplate at the present moment.  Halward was able to match Solas’ attacks, holding him off.  The other slaves and mage focused on Harella, marking her as the greater threat.  Even facing death, she was reluctant to tap into her powers again.  Regretfully, she forced the two rogues into blood slaves and turned them against the frightened Tevinter mage.  They made quick, messy work of their target before sputtering blood from their mouths and eyes until they collapsed lifeless to the ground.  Running back to the center of the room, she saw Solas knocked to the ground and Halward preparing for a killing blow.  She could feel his mana swirling in the air, he was not going to take any chances with the strength of his attack.  Solas would die. 

She screamed in anger, frustration, outrage – any and every emotion that she had felt since finding herself trapped in her present position.  Halward’s mana was robbed from him and fueled the spell that Harella had blindly chosen.  She waited, trying to give him the chance to retreat, but he instead chose to charge her.  “Abomination!  You will not have my son!”

Left with no choice, she had her mana reach into his chest and crush his heart and lungs.  She and her victim fell to the ground in unison, however her weakness was in revulsion at her actions.  Solas stirred, his arms slowly moving to press himself off the ground.  Harella rushed to his side, helping him up.

A thickness in her mouth made them tough to utter without choking.  “Why?  Why didn’t you tell me she was a blood mage?”

Solas regarded her with pity.  “I’m sorry, I thought you would have known the instant you inhabited that body.”  He reached out a sympathetic hand to touch her shoulder which she shrugged off immediately.  Her new focus was Dorian.  Crouched at his side, she tugged his chest upward, testing his weight.  Looking up at Solas who was leaning heavily on his staff, she voiced her assumption.  “I take it you’re too drained to help me get him out of here?”

“You would be correct.  Your last spell also drained me of my mana, I cannot even offer a rejuvenation spell.  We can wait here, or you can attempt to carry him yourself.”

The acrid smell of blood made the decision for her.  “We’re going, right now.”

Dorian wasn’t wholly unconscious which helped significantly, however he was extremely weak.  She carried his weight by draping his arm across her shoulders, Dorian’s legs providing some assistance.  Solas was not hindered by her slow pace as he leaned heavily on his staff to make it out of the ruins.  Once outside, the rain was still falling and Solas had regained enough strength that he no longer relied on his staff.  “I should be able to help you soon.  We need to head back to the docks and gain passage out of Orlais.  It is dangerous for us to be here.”

“Forget to tell me something else?”  She teased him with a smile, glad to be out of the deathly tomb.  “I’m beginning to notice a pattern.” 

“Templars comb the countryside hunting rebel mages.  We need to be careful.”  She only nodded her head in response and worked her way into the woods, seeking out the path they had taken to get there.  She stopped when she noticed Solas was not following, she turned her head back in time to catch him make a quick hand gesture.  _Hide._

Ducking as quickly as her burden would allow, she crouched in the dense woods, checking Dorian’s extremities to be sure he wasn’t exposed in a way that would reveal their location. 

A rich, confident feminine voice washed over the area.  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little hobo apostate.  Why am I not surprised to see that you are involved in blood magic?  This place reeks of it.”

Grand-Enchanter Vivienne was mounted on a black horse that was lightly armored.  With her was a small contingent of Templars.  The group made a foreboding image that made Harella’s skin crawl.  Solas faced her dead on.  His gaze never betraying Harella’s hiding place in the thick copse.  “I came here to stop a blood ritual.  Unfortunately, it seems I was too late, no one survived.”

“You’re here all alone then?  A poorly fabricated story that I don’t believe for one second.  Will you make this easy on yourself and come with me or are you going to make me ask nicely?”

Solas eyed the advancing Templars.  A mocking smirk was the only forewarning they received before he released a powerful mindblast to upset their footing.  He cast a firestorm in the fat rain that created a thick mist that obscured his flight from the temple’s entrance. 

Vivienne did not let the set-back deter her from her purpose.  Harella could hear the malicious resolve in her voice.  “Knight-Commander Barris, that grimy little elf is always being dragged around by the Inquisitor.  She must be here as well.  Bring her to me.”

“Yes, Madame de Fer.  If she is here, we will find her.”  Barris’ clipped voice barked into the foggy darkness.  “You four, go after him!  You two search the ruins, you two come with me.  We’ll search the area.” 

Herella’s ears were ringing at the concussive blasts of cleansing aura that emanated from the Templars as they spread out to begin their search.  They were not nearly as gentle or refined as Cassandra had been.  The way that they used their abilities left them depending heavily on lyrium, which gave the effects a rough edge to them.  She was almost completely drained of mana when she made it a respectable distance.  She trudged slowly through the darkness hoping that the rainstorm was sufficient to mask any sound she made.  Her speed was also set by necessity.  Her strength was failing quickly.  She could see that she had knowledge of a rejuvenation spell, but also knew that using it would draw the Templars’ attention.  She whispered urgently at Dorian whose head hung limply next to hers. “Please Dorian, you have to help me a little bit, I’m not that strong.”

She changed direction depending on how strong the Templars’ auras felt.  Her progress became significantly hindered when she was forced into a bog.  The muck reached halfway up her shins, but all other routes were too close to the search party.  Forging ahead, Dorian’s body became heavier with each step and the bog deeper.  He no longer drifted in and out of consciousness.  He was out completely and fell heavily into the sludge.  Falling to her knees to create some leverage, she clumsily pulled his torso and head up out of the water.  His dead weight was now increased by the wet clothing which was too much.  She splashed back down on her ass.  All she could manage was propping him against her chest, his body facing away as she had her arms hooked under his armpits.  His body floated to a degree which meant that she had to crouch deep into the bog so that she was at the right angle to pull him. 

The storm increased in intensity and blotted out the moon. With each tug at Dorian’s body, the bog became deeper and the mud beneath her feet sucked at her boots until she finally hit a spot that refused to let go.  Her chest was bursting at the rapid pace of her heart.  Her hands shook at the fear of failure even as she clutched Dorian tight to keep his head above water.  A heavy splash a short distance away was followed by rippling water that lapped against her.  The way the water sloshed as he advanced let her know it was someone much larger than Solas.  She was found. 

The ripples became thicker as their captor came closer.  Her mana was too low to be a challenge to a Templar.  Her breath clenched in her chest as tears fell gently down her cheeks.  Freeing one of her arms, she cradled Dorian’s head next to hers.  “I’m sorry.  I tried, I’m so sorry.”


	5. * Unexpected Assistance and an Unpleasant Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harella and Dorian have an unlikely savior and find that escaping from Vivienne is the least of their worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added art at the end, because why not? Warning, it's been about 15 years since I've drawn. Hopefully future ones will be cleaner.

 

At the ass end of Orlais, trudging through a swamp, Templars combing the area – oh yes, this is exactly what he had in mind.  He saw that Harella had gotten stuck and was barely managing to keep Dorian’s head above water.  He reluctantly leapt into the dark waters with a curse.  The water was thick from algae, mud, crud and whatever other slime grew in this Void forgotten shit-hole. Once he reached her, he used his massive hand to easily pluck the Inquisitor out of the murk’s grip and throw her over his shoulder.  He then used both hands to pick up Dorian. The lithe elf scarcely weighed anything, but managing the both of them, they were more awkward than heavy to carry. 

He began to mumble aloud in a low voice as he mimicked Krem, conscious of the pursuers who might hear.  “ _‘Gee Chief, I guess I’m curious why someone who loves killing, just stops.’_ Fucking asshole should’ve come himself.”

The Iron Bull felt Harella shift and hold on to his harness which let him cease worrying about her falling off.  He waded through the water, changing his direction according to the taps that Harella would place on his left or right shoulder, alerting him which direction had danger.  Time didn’t matter, distance and silence did.  Back on dry land, he knelt then shrugged his shoulders to tell Harella to walk on her own.  Bull was thankful that the rain had let up enough that there was finally some moonlight.  Otherwise he would have missed it.  Harella looked at him, and he felt that he was looking at her for the first time.  Reading her features was contradictory to the monster that he knew she was [ _what next?-help us-help him-help him-tell me what to do_ ]. 

No time.  He only nodded once, then found west then continued walking with the limp mage in his arms.  Her corrections came at a fewer intervals until they finally had gone an hour with no Templar activity.  It wasn’t safe, but it was safe enough.  They had been hugging the coastline and Bull chose an area with a large grouping of rocks that would hide their silhouettes from a distance. 

After setting Dorian down, he whispered as loud as he dared at Harella.  “You mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

She smiled [ _joy-surprise_ ].  ”You came.”  She held her happiness for a few moments then her expression shifted [ _danger-hurry-business-succinct_ ].  “Solas used a spell to remove the old Inquisitor and trapped my spirit in this body with the hope that I would repair the Inquisition.”

Bull responded by rolling his eye and letting out a heavy sigh.  “Demons, it had to be demons.” 

She glared at him [ _I’m not a demon_ ] but she didn’t correct his choice of words [ _what is next?-tell me what to do_ ].  Bull pressed on.  “Did you know that I can tell if you are lying to me.”  She hadn’t yet, but he wanted to see what she would do with this information as she continued her story.  He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but he could tell that _she_ at least believed it.

“Ben-hassrath, I know.  I was looking for you when Krem found me first.”  She smirked [ _I was an idiot_ ].  “I’m sure he filled you in on all the details.” 

Bull’s ears honed in on the pronoun like a wyvern pouncing on a druffalo.  “Say that again.”

“What?  That Krem kicked my ass?  That I suffered a ringing in my head for two days when he boxed my ears?”  She shrugged her shoulders [ _embarrassment-necessary-too much pain to fix_ ]

“What is Krem?”  Bull pressed, leaning forward as if his proximity had been the reason he might have misheard her.  The old Inquisitor was relentless about Krem’s sex.  She had gotten a sick rise out of calling him a ‘her’.

She squinted her eyes at him [ _trick question?-trap?-confusion_ ].  “Your…Lieutenant?” 

“Is Krem a man or a woman?”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of looking into people’s smallclothes, but I’m certain he’s a man.  Why?” [ _odd-stating obvious-amusement_ ]

“Hot damn!   You really aren’t her are you?”  His eye widened in disbelief when he could see the swell of her heart behind her eyes [ _YES!-YES!_ ].  She wiped away tears that had not fallen before she stepped closer to keep her voice quiet.  “Now that we have that out of the way, can we please finish our escape?”

Giving no answer, he stood, this time throwing Dorian over a shoulder so that he could draw his weapon if needed.  This was how they continued, following the coast until dawn crept over the horizon, at which time they retreated into the cover of the forest.  Bull found a spot that met most of his requirements for a hasty camp.  He laid Dorian down and sat beside him as he watched Harella.  Everything about her was different – her gait, her facial expressions…Ah!  Her Dalish tattoo was gone.  She sat with a scrunched face [annoyance] while she removed her boots [ _relief_ ].  She had blisters that had popped a while ago, leaving blood had caked in her socks.  Yes, this was certainly someone else, the old Harella would have found someone to suck the life out of before suffering in any manner, especially not for some ‘Vint she saw as being beneath her.

She crawled on all fours, too tired to stand again, so she could be next to Dorian.  She had him drink healing potion [ _last one_ ] and applied a poultice [ _only two left_ ] to some of his more serious bruises.

In the morning light Bull could better see what a state Dorian was in.  His skin pale to the point it was almost blue.  The beatings from his incarceration were remembered on his skin in black and green patches.  His hair had grown long and his clothes hung from him loosely, clearly belonging to someone else.   “What happened to him?”

Her attention stayed focused on tending to Dorian.  “The slavers starved him for days, his father tried to do a blood ritual to make him more like the son he wanted, I tried to stop them and then everything went to shit.  After fighting our way out, Vivienne showed up with her Templars.” 

Once Dorian was seen to the best that she was able to manage, she flopped on her ass and looked at Bull.  “My only plan was to sail back to Ferelden and eventually make our way to Skyhold.  The Templars have ruined that idea.  Do you have any thoughts?” She was composed but Bull could see [ _apprehension-tired-lost-determination-survive_ ].  If he said that they needed to press forward, he knew that she would do it. 

“We have some time. I’ll take first watch, you should rest.”  She hesitated [ _guilt_ ].  He chuckled faintly, “Don’t worry, I’m good.  I’ll be sure that it’s only a short time, so don’t get too excited.”

Bull watched her breathing fall to a shallow slow tempo before getting up to have a better look at their surroundings.  They were well hidden from the coast but it also meant that anyone approaching wouldn’t be easy to see either.  He paced out a small perimeter, making mental notes and found the most difficult terrain that they would use as a hasty retreat if the Templars found them.  No one ever wants to pursue their prey through unpleasantly rough areas.  His attention was captured by an indignant groan.  He saw Dorian stir as he headed back. 

Dorian sat up with extreme difficulty, nearly falling back over multiple times.  He took in his surroundings until his eyes landed on Harella. 

" **You fucking abomination**!"  He lunged at her.  

 _Dammit!_  Bull ran to silence Dorian and separate the two.  It was a certainty that Vivienne would not have given up her pursuit so soon.  In the short time it took his long stride to close the distance, a malnourished Dorian had managed to straddle the Inquisitor, grab her skull with both hands and then press his thumbs into her eye sockets.  Bull’s arm wrapped easily around Dorian’s waist as he jerked him off of her.  The mage was far too weak to offer much resistance.  It was only when he saw her eye fall free from her face that he realized how deep Dorian had gotten his thumb.  She twisted away from them, cupping the eye in one hand up to her empty socket, while she thrust the other in her mouth to bite down on as she muffled her pain. 

Bull’s free hand completely covered Dorian’s jaw, holding it shut.  “Shut up you idiot!  The Orlesian Templars are out looking for us.  Do you want to be taken to their Circle?” 

He kept a tight grip on the mage, waiting for him to process the implications of them being found before easing him back down.  Dorian stood only briefly before collapsing to sit on the ground.  Bull left him there as he went to see how bad her injury was.  She was still crouched on the ground when he placed a hand on her back, encouraging her to turn her head toward him.  “Let me see.”

Tilting her head with great care, he noticed the blood running down her wrist from the bite she maintained.  Her inner three fingers were crooked at odd angles, the pressure from her teeth had broken the joints.  He had to give her credit, she was not going to be the reason they were found.  She eased her trembling hand away enough that Bull had an idea of the damage – _bad._   He gently pushed her hand back to her face.  Her reaction cemented his belief in her claim to being someone else [ _do you see what she did to him?-sadness-pity-not his fault-want to help_ ].  “Dorian, can you heal this?”

Dorian hissed back, thankfully keeping his volume low this time.  “Are you serious?!”  His hands gave life to his emotions [ _anger-hurt-rage-disgust-anger-rage-hurt-betrayal-depression_ ].  Dorian was a physical reminder of the lengths that evil would go in the pursuit of torture.  Dorian turned on the Inquisitor, spitting as he hissed at her.  “Pleased with yourself are you?  Why!? Why are you doing this to me?!  Did you get a good laugh, yes?  It wasn't enough that you violated the mind _and_ body of my mentor but you go through this elaborate ploy, for what hmm?  To have me watch you murder my father!  How fucking good does it feel?  When will you finally give up and just kill me!?”  

There was a subtle shift in the natural state of the woods.  Bull grabbed his maul and motioned for Dorian to be silent.  He scanned the woods, searching for the hint of movement.  His tension released when a voice cut through.  “It’s just us Tiny.”

Varric made his way through the thicket, Solas sprinted as soon as he saw the Inquisitor on the ground.  While Solas began to use healing magic, Varric relayed what they had seen back in Val Chevin.

“It looks like Vivienne had gotten word that there were slavers operating out of the docks.  That’s why she was here [ _bitterness_ ].  It’s a freak accident that she ran into Chuckles and the Inquisitor.  However, now they’re who she’s looking for now.  The docks are shut down, there is no point in trying to get out that way.”

Varric was interrupted by Dorian when he called out to Solas who was delicately attempting to put Harella’s eye back.  “Damn you, don't put it back!  Give that here!  I got it out, that's mine!”

“Andraste’s tits!  You look awful!”  Varric took a step back at the surprise of seeing Dorian looking so haggard.  He rummaged around in his sack to find some food and took Solas’ water flagon. 

Dorian actually became sullen and indignant at the comparison.  “Surely I look better than those wrinkled old bags.”

Solas stood.  “I’ve done the best I can.  The Templars have kept my mana thoroughly depleted during our escape.  I will have to wait to fix her broken fingers.  Her eye will be scarred and probably not see as well as it used to, but she will learn to manage [ _thankful-not worse_ ].”  He turned to Bull, gesturing toward Dorian.  “Did you not tell him who she is?  I thought that you would have figured it out within the first minute of meeting her.”

“Two minutes actually, and no.  He attacked her the second he woke up.”

“Why are we here talking when we can simply kill her!  We can give Vivienne her corpse and then Madame de Bitch may even pay our way out of here.”

Solas explained what he had done, even went into some particulars about the spell he used.  Bull watched Dorain’s reaction [ _lies-impossible-theoretical-anger-lies-irrelevant_ ].  “She is playing you!  She has had her filthy little fingers pulling strings since the first day the Inquisition was started.  Let me kill her!” He scanned his audience who gave no indication that they would support his inclination.  “None of you actually believe this farce, do you? [ _idiots-blind_ ]” 

Bull moved in a protective stance between Dorian and Harella.  "Other than Solas, I may be the only one who believes her.  I know she is not the same person."

Dorian sneered as he mocked Bull’s statement.  “Ah, well, that must be the end of it if _you_ say so.”

"You’re not the only one."  Bull eyed Varric speculatively, to which he shrugged with a self-amused grin.  "What can I say?  I have writers block and documenting the transformation of the feared inquisitor should land me a hell of a windfall [ _tenuous hope-please be true-faith?_ ]."  

“Fasta vass!  Each of you has lost your sanity, no doubt driven to such madness by her!”  Dorian turned on her as he found the strength to stand.  “A pox upon you, your clan, and everyone you’ve ever known, and everyone you'll ever meet!”  With a final swig of the borrowed flagon, he gave his parting words.  “Give Vivienne my regards, you have little hope of out maneuvering her people.  May your precious ‘spirit’ see you through [ _torture-pain-outrage-grief_ ].”

 "I'm sorry Dorian."  She cast a spell whose mist sent Dorian slowly tumbling to the ground.  "We do not have time to argue."

Bull tensed and strained his ears to listen to his surroundings.  "Do you feel any more Templars?"

"No but I agree with Dorian.  She won't give up easily and we're already at a disadvantage with no mounts and few supplies."  Her hand twitched as she made a conscious effort to keep her hand from rubbing at her injured eye.  It was extremely blood shot and had a maroon colored pool that had built up in the far corner. 

Varric cleared away some leaves so he could draw a crude map of Orlesian landmarks in the dirt.  “Heading back north doesn’t seem like much of an option, but if we continue south-west, we'll end up traveling past Val Royeaux.  Also, not a great option.”

“Perhaps we could move south sooner.  Isn't there a bridge crossing into Lydes?” Harella offered as she looked to both Bull and Varric for their opinion.

Bull grimaced at the thought of unknown numbers.  “It's still under repair which means imperial guards.  The size could be anywhere from two unlucky bastards to a full platoon.  If we cross there, we'll have to have mounts to haul ass once we’re on the other side.”  

Varric made a little ‘x’ in the sand near where he had marked their location.  “There's a minor lord's estate here.  We could make use of his stables [ _theft-necessity_ ].”

Harella didn’t like the idea, but knew they were limited [ _disgust-resignation-survival_ ].  Bull was glad to see that her new found sympathy wasn’t tainted with foolhardiness.  “Alright.  We’ll go with your plan.  We’ll rest here for a bit longer.  Solas and I will be of better use if we can recover more mana.”

With a plan set forward, each person split off to take care of different tasks.  Bull tapped Harella on the shoulder and nodded his head to have her follow him away from the camp.  Once out of earshot of the others, he folded his arms over his chest.  “I don’t like the way you look at me.”

[ _confusion-trepidation_ ]  “What do you mean?”

“You are always on the edge of saying something, doing…something.  You have your chance now.  I don’t like having that unknown grating in the back of my head.  I can’t focus on coming up with new ways to kill people, you know how it is.”

She looked away as she contemplated [ _anxiety-resignation_ ]. “Fine.”  She reached out with one hand to touch his wrist, his hands dropped to his sides.  At this opening, she wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing her cheek against his skin.  “Thank you.”

She didn’t say it, but he could hear it. ‘Thank you for saving us.  Thank you for helping Dorian.  Thank you for coming.  Thank you for believing.’

He couldn’t have predicted this outcome even if he were drunk and listing all of the things that would never happen in his lifetime.  Her sincerity urged his instincts to bring his arms around her to hold her back.  The closeness caused her body to shudder when she took a deep breath.  He waited.  He knew people.  He knew what would come next.  If she needed a cry out, that’s normal, expected.  Instead, she pulled away and looked up at him with a dry face.  Her smile touched her eyes and they sparkled [ _gratitude-hope_ ]. “Ready?”

Bull chuckled to himself.  _I think I’m going to like this one._

After an hour had passed, everyone was becoming anxious.  It was time to go.  The group paralleled a road that led to the estate that hopefully had enough horses to see them out of the country.  They traveled in silence, using gestures to communicate until Harella stopped suddenly.  Keeping her voice low, but loud enough everyone could hear.  “Do you smell that?  What is it?”

Bull set Dorian down, something wasn’t right.  He didn’t smell it but he could feel it.  He unsheathed his maul to have it at the ready.

Solas scanned the area as well.  His mouth sneered once he caught the same smell.  “It smells like Darkspawn…no.  Wardens!”

The group circled around Dorian who was still in a forced sleep.  The following attack was swift, precise and efficent.  Ex-Templars nulled the area, mages erected barriers, rogues used poisoned arrows and the entire onslaught took advantage of the group’s lack of experience fighting together as a team. 

Bull growled in protest as he was bound by four men and watched as Warden Blackwall approached Harella.  She was prone on the ground while another Warden tied her hands behind her back.  “Come to spread more of your cancerous influence, tyrant?”  He then kicked her face with the bottom of his boot, thankfully on the side of the good eye.  “I’ll not have you ruin the Wardens as you have the Inquisition.”

“That’s enough Blackwall.  We can’t damage her too much, I have plans for that one.”  A Tevinter mage slinked out of the obscurity of the woods to stand beside Blackwall.  Bull did not know the man but Harella did.  Gauging by her reaction, Bull knew that their situation took a sharp turn for the worse. 

[ _shock-hatred-murderer-rage-abhorance-murderer_ ] “Magister Livius Erimond.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pox curse that Dorian uses is inspired by the lyrics from 'A Moment of Silence' by Streetlight Manefesto
> 
> Also, now you know that the choice of Val Chevin was not as simple as throwing a dart at the map of Thedas. There's a Warden outpost there. ;-)


	6. * Demons are on Both sides of the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wardens intentions are revealed and an escape plan runs into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: brief mention of suicide/assisted suicide

The ground was warm and the grass soft beneath his face.  For a moment, Dorian was pleased to discover that he was no longer locked in the  box that the Antivan slavers resorted to using three days ago.  Or was it shorter?  Longer?  All he cared about was that his joints didn’t ache from the cramped space and his lungs had enough space to take full, deep breaths.  His moment of peace was shattered as recent memories flooded his mind, reminding him that he was not safe.  _The Inquisitor – his father._  Dorian attempted to scramble to his feet but was still weak from his prolonged captivity and the sleep spell that Harella had used.  Someone stood behind him, helping him to his feet by hooking their arms under his.  Once upright, he jerked away defensively as his eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding sunlight. 

“I think I know you.  What house are you from?”

Dorian turned to the voice and was relieved to see the familiar distinctions of a fellow Tevinter.  He drew himself up as tall as his muscles would allow and afforded the stranger a polite bow.  “I am Dorian of house Pavus of Minrathos.” 

Looking from side to side, it was apparent that Dorian’s fortune had turned for the better.  Harella and her companions were subdued by the Wardens and this Tevinter thankfully didn’t associate him with her.  Dorian gestured in Harella’s direction as he spoke.  “I see that you have taken care of _that_ pestilence.  You have my sincerest thanks.”

“Of course!  The younger Pavus.  Altus, I thought I had heard of you, a patriot…if considered somewhat unconventional by some in the Inperium.”  His grin deepened, then a flourished a half bow.  “I am Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.”

Dorian kept a snide remark to himself at the dig on his own political motivations.  He was accustomed to enduring such disdain, though typically there was no effort to sound civil about it.  “No longer Altus if you please.  Owing to the machinations of the dreaded Inquisitor, the responsibility of my father’s seat has recently fallen unto me following his death.”  Speaking of his father was more difficult than he anticipated when his voice began to falter, halting him from asking any of the numerous questions burning on his tongue. 

“I regret to hear such news.  However, I am pleased to know that no fellow loyalist would associate themselves with such a pretender.”  Erimond turned his attention to the Inquisitor.  “Speaking of which, my master has provided me with great insight on how to best clip your ties to the power you never deserved.”

_Master?  What Magister has any master?_   Even the Archon is never referred to in such a manner as it speaks too closely to being considered lower-class.  Dorian watched with interest as the Grey Wardens adjusted their formation to have four mages at Erimond’s side as he began to cast a spell.  “That power was never yours to know.  Although it cannot be taken back, I will make sure that you are no longer a threat to the glorious rise of the Imperium.”

For months Dorian had spent many hours of his time deciding the best way to exact revenge on the Inquisitor for every crime that she had ever committed.  His vivid imagination held no bounds as to how gruesome it would be.  Yet, the spell that Erimond was preparing, his demeanor, his mention of having a master sent a warning chill down Dorian’s spine.  He watched Erimond’s magic pull on the strength of the supporting mages.  It violently reached out to the mark on Harella’s hand.  He could almost feel her pain as her nerves became visible through her skin when they lit up and he saw them being pulled roughly toward the mark as if to pass through it, but remained firmly anchored within her body.  Sadly, he remarked that her screams of agony were not as satisfying as he had often dreamed they would be.  _How unfortunate._

At first, Dorian assumed that Erimond was only punishing the Inquisitor but as he kept staring at her hand, it no longer had the same glow, the ripples of the fade no longer emanated from it.  With extreme difficulty he hid his frightened shock.  He had no intention of letting his fear be known, especially not to this man.  “You…you cut the mark off from the fade?  How…?” 

Erimond ignored Dorian’s question and motioned for Warden Blackwall to take charge of the Inquisitor.  Dorian recognized Blackwall from the man’s short stay with the Inquisition.  The Warden grabbed her arm and forcefully hauled her to her feet.  He menacingly mocked her loss with his face close to hers, nearly spitting as he spoke. “How does it feel to no longer be Andraste’s chosen?”

Dorian was startled to find Erimond suddenly at his side when the man touched his shoulder.  “You seem even more wild than the wretched animals that live here.  Come with me back to the Warden’s keep.  I’ll get you clean clothes and some decent food, yes?”

Taking stock of his appearance, Dorian had to agree.  “It appears that my normal immaculate fashion has suffered greatly during my captivity.” 

Although Dorian intentionally avoided traditional politics as much as possible back home, he recognized a bargain in the making.  Erimond was not offering help without a price, especially now that he knew that Dorian was recently elevated to Magister.  The name of Pavus was powerful enough that it allowed Dorian more leniency than others for his ‘unconventional’ views.  _Excellent job, perhaps next time you should at least wait to sell your seat to the highest bidder instead of the first person to blackmail you.  Brilliant._   He silently admonished himself as he mounted a borrowed horse and the entire party made their way for the Warden keep. 

The Inquisitor’s party walked, which slowed the group down to the point that Erimond’s one sided conversation was becoming exceedingly annoying.  He spoke of nothing but the glory of the Imperium and how the lands they trod on were in truth, that of Tevinter.  Dorian didn’t have time to entertain the diatribe of an empire thousands of years old and currently non-existent.  He blocked out most of it as he gathered his thoughts about the quick succession of events that had led up to this point.  He looked back at the Qunari who had not only irrationally re-joined the Inquisitor but had actually defended her.  He hated how that created small slivers of doubt that burrowed themselves into his mind. 

The party eventually crested a hill that overlooked a farming village in a glen. His mood darkened even further when he noticed a rift had formed over the center of the village.  Even under the bright afternoon sun, the rift managed to cast an unnatural green glow over the land.  Dorian’s skin crawled when Erimond spoke.  “Ah!  Excellent.  Wardens!  Prepare yourselves.  We shall be hunting demons as we pass.”

If Dorian had any reservations about Erimond, they increased tenfold at this point.  _Who hunts demons?  They should be slain.  Why is this a question?_ He looked at Harella who seemed dejected as she stared out at the rift, now helpless to close it.  This did nothing but increase his anxiety, and eat away at the implicit trust he had so freely given his fellow Tevinter.  Having no desire to stay near the Inquisitor, Dorian followed the majority of the Wardens who had dismounted at the outskirts of the village.  They walked among the homes, the hum of the rift was inescapable.  There were no people in the streets and as the Wardens began to search the houses, they discovered that no one was left alive.  A few stray demons were easily slaughtered, but only after Erimond gave the order. 

Dorian followed Blackwall into one house.  A woman and three small children had been murdered mercifully with a clean cut across their throats.  A man dead by his own hand, cradled the bundle of bodies having bled out in that position.  Dorian slipped outside of the hovel when his eyes began to swim.  An icy chill covered his face as his blood dropped to his core, festering into an uneasy sickness.  He leaned against the outside wall to regain his bearings.  A few moments later Blackwall emerged seemingly unaffected by the scene.

Dorian raised his head to the Warden.  “He killed his family to spare them the torment.  In the absence of hope or help, he had to murder his own children.”  Dorian’s voice trembled.  The way that Blackwall stared back lacking any empathy, left Dorian wondering if he had spoken in the common tongue or not.  “What are the Wardens going to do about the rift?” 

“Our only obligation, our only concern is preventing the next blight.  This will pass and is of no concern of ours.”  Without another word, he brushed past Dorian to join the main search party.

Dorian called out to his back.  "Your Order cannot standby and let this happen!"  The retreating figure did not break his stride nor glance backward.  _I cannot standby.  Yes, that is the thinking that has gotten you here.  That keeps you here._   He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought.    

Hesitant, Dorian wasn’t sure what his next action should be.  Renewed fighting down the street made his feet involuntarily seek out the cause.  Rounding the corner of a building, he saw a massive pride demon spill from the rift but surprisingly, it wasn’t attacking.  Dorian looked for the cause when he caught the insanity flaring in Erimond’s eyes.  His incantation was impossible to decipher, but the effect was instant as Dorian’s ears were ringing with the screams of a Warden whose blood sacrifice clinched the final requirement to bind the demon to a Warden mage who stood at Erimond’s side.  For a brief moment, Dorian was able to see that the magical bond not only created a puppet demon for the mage, but the mage also became a tool of Erimond.  _Fabulous!  What an absolutely fabulous mess you’ve found yourself in!_

The rift pulsed and sparked which held meaning for Erimond.  “Dorian!  Behold the might of the Imperium!  Is it not beautiful!?”  His laughter was deranged.  "Fetch that worthless knife-ear, aha-ha!  She can finally be put to good use."

His crazed smile bit into Dorian’s soul so deep that he forgot to breathe for a moment.  Through concentrated effort, he nodded and staggered back to where the prisoners and horses were being held.  After that display, his decision was firmly made.  He needed to get away.  It was clear he couldn’t remain with these madmen.  That was simply out of the question.  What sparked his ire is how his mind fell back on the logic of survival.  He was still weak and if he wanted to have any chance of escaping the grasp of the Wardens and their all too convenient Tevinter benefactor, he’d have to have help.  _Kaffas!  The Maker has a sick sense of humor or simply enjoys watching me suffer through every misfortune his sadistic mind can conjure up._

Approaching the sentry Wardens he called out to them.  “The binding!  It went wrong, they need help!  I will watch them, you men, go quickly!” 

As he had hoped, his ragged appearance lent itself well to appearing to be desperate enough that the sentries rushed to aid their brothers.  Once out of eyesight, Dorian pilfered a dagger from one of the horses’ saddles and retrieved Solas’ staff.  Deftly using the two weapons, he was able to free the physical and magical restraints on the Inquisitor’s party.  “Erimond is mad.  The weak minded idiot has convinced the Wardens to use blood magic to bind demons.  We have to get as far away from here as possible.” 

Varric cocked a discerning eye at him.  "Finally tossing your lot in with us?  Took you that long to come to your senses, did it Sparkler?"

Solas snapped at the both of them.  “This is no time to argue!  Grab a horse.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, remembering that he didn’t miss any company he had left behind.  He returned Solas’ staff and tried to get under his skin. “Ugh, how do you manage such an unwieldy thing?”  Solas glared at him, but before Solas could voice a retort, Dorain felt his stomach drop suddenly and judging by Solas’ face, he felt it too.  All three mages looked back to where Dorian had left Erimond in time to see Templars begin to materialize around the corners of buildings. 

The Iron Bull’s commanding voice pushed everyone to action. "Mount up, now!  Let the zealots kill each other!"

The clash of battle between the two banners had barely begun as each Inquisition member hastily leapt on a horse and spurred their mount forward.  The Templars on foot in full armor had no chance to catch them, but it was unknown how long the fight would delay pursuit. 

The group rode full speed until the horses began to show the first signs of fatigue.  Varric led them to a river where they could let the horses rest while a plan was decided.  Dorian’s nerves were frayed beyond measure.  Everything was happening with dizzying speed.  The only blessing that he found was that Harella actually wasn’t her usual belittling, irritating self.  He watched as she engaged the other members, sought ideas and weighed options.  The entire surreal scene would have led him to believe that he had died were it not for the hunger pains and sore muscles from the impromptu ride.  If he were dead, he certainly wouldn’t be starving as he was.  An uncomfortable doubt began to take root while he listened to their conversation.

Harella shook her head.  “We don’t fight efficiently enough as a team to face the Templars or the Wardens.  Varric, how fast can we get to an Inquisition camp?”

Varric scratched at the scruff on his chin.  “The safest place for us at this point is the Inquisition camp south of Lydes.  We'll have to keep a hard pace.  If we press them as hard as we need to, the horses probably won't survive.”

“Everyone, go through your saddlebags and ditch anything that isn't a weapon or water.  If we don’t make it to camp quickly then tired horses are no better than dead ones.  Varric, you lead the way.”  She instantly began stripping her horse of its expensive armor and tossed out an entire satchel full of lyrium dust and rare herbs that would have fetched a decent price on the black market.  Amazingly, her actions gave him a glimmer of hope that they might survive this.  He mimicked her intent with his own horse and once he was mounted again, he reined his horse next to hers as they waited for the others to finish.

“You had better be a spirit of infinite luck because that is what we will need.”  It came out laced with more anger than he intended but he was tired and feared the strength he would need to stay in the saddle for the whole journey.  A stern gaze with a faint nod was the only response she gave before they sped forth. 

They had almost made it when Bull’s horse stumbled forward and crashed into the ground as one of his front legs had broken.  Bull was thrown hard into the dusty road.  They were only a league from the Waking Sea bridge.  Instantly, Harella leapt from her horse to be at his side, “You alright?”  His gruff curse at the now dying animal answered in the affirmative.  “Take mine.  Varric and I are light enough to share.  Let’s keep moving.”

The original plan was to slow down once Lydes was in sight, but the billowing black smoke that was filling the sky had them maintaining their original pace.  Dorian knew that the politics in Orlais had become extremely heated over who should sit on the throne, but he had not thought that it had escalated to all-out war between the Empress and her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard.  Winding through the city streets, they crossed several Inquisition mercenaries and soldiers who had abandoned the fighting and were fleeing for their lives. 

The city eventually opened up to a basin towards the south.  There, the battlefield was packed with fierce fighting.  It was a simple task to differentiate the two sides as there were no mercenaries working alongside the regular Inquisition soldiers any longer.  Dorian wondered at this oddity as he distinctly remembered Harella’s early assertion that the soldiers were poorly trained and would have benefited from the assistance of professionals.  Never mind that the ones she had managed to hire were ruthless barbarians who killed for fun and had little to no concern for the welfare of innocents.  Well, aside from the Chargers whose employment was a freak accident by Dorian’s measure.

“Krem!”  Bull’s shout broke Dorian’s musings.  Amazingly, Bull had found his band through all the fighting and the encroaching haze of dusk.  In a quick exchange with his lieutenant, it was decided that the Inquisitor’s traveling group would help the Chargers retake the main encampment, leaving the soldiers to handle the bulk of the battlefield.  Recapturing a strategic outpost required finesse, battles needed brute force.  Bull paired each person with a Charger, their abilities complimenting each other to create a well-rounded fighting force.  The newly augmented mercenaries made quick work of the remaining two squadrons that held the former Inquisition command post.  They not only pushed them back, they had them in full retreat.  With the loss of the commanding elements, the rest of the Orleasian soldiers fell back.  The reaction from the remaining loyal soldiers was hearty and thankful, but laced heavily with apprehension.  Dorian felt that he was watching the beginning of the end.  A battle won, but at a high cost with war still looming.  _Why would there be so few soldiers here?  Surely that nosy spymaster of theirs would have known of an impending attack?_

As soon as Harella and Bull were convinced that the Chargers had suffered only minor injuries, they went in search of the Commander of the encampment.  Having nothing else to occupy him at the moment and being intensely curious, Dorian followed them.  All three of them were surprised to find that Commander Cullen was there personally.  Harella did not hide her astonishment when they approached him.  “Commander?  What are you doing here?”

Cullen gave her a wry look as though he couldn’t place her face.  Dorian empathized with the man.  He also almost hadn’t been able to recognize her when he was only a few feet away.  He understood Cullen’s difficulty considering she was covered in blood from fighting and dust from the road.  With the bruising, the bloody eye, and lacking her vallaslin, she could easily be mistaken as a different person.    Dorian smiled to himself, _that eye is actually quiet becoming, as it should be.  It is my work after all._ He turned his focus to Cullen when he spoke.  Appraising the Commander, Dorian noticed that Cullen looked worse than he remembered.  Cullen was certainly battered thoroughly from the fight, but his tall stance was forced, his eyes were rimmed with a purplish black that announced his determination to work through his obvious exhaustion. 

Dismissive of her question, Cullen chose to address The Iron Bull.  “I cannot begin to thank you and your men for what you have done.  We were supposed to meet with Gaspard and carry out a few simple tasks to curry favor.  He was offering an alliance, but it seems that he has chosen to double cross us instead by attempting to strike down the Inquisition presence in Orlais.”  He let out a frustrated groan while he scrubbed at his face with one hand.  “It must be part of the thrice damned game.  He takes out the Inquisition and then there would be little room to argue over whom is the stronger ruler.”

Bull scoffed as if Gaspard’s actions should have been expected.  “Huh, I guess the Inquisition has a knack for making friends.  Both the Wardens and the Templars are hunting us down.  Well, the Inquisitor more specifically.”

Cullen groaned at the sky.  “Maker’s breath.  What else can be thrust upon us?” 

Harella interjected.  “Why were you looking to ally with Gaspard?  I thought Celene was the goal?”

With a hint of irritation at her second interruption, Cullen explained. “Our forces were cut nearly in half when the mercenaries found out that our funds have dried up.  Josephine was the only one who knew where everything was invested and must have found a way to sever our ties.  We needed coin so that’s why we attempted the alliance with Gaspard.  Even with fewer soldiers, we don’t have enough to function much longer.”

Dorian couldn’t help but laugh at the difficult hand they had been dealt.  It was still better than being with the Wardens so he took his amusement where he could.  “Oh my, this is more entertaining than the theater!  Harella, sweetheart, tell him the best part.” 

Dorian leaned against a tree, propping the heel of one boot on the trunk to further complete the picture of nonchalance.  He was dying to see the Commander’s reaction.  The smirk on Dorian’s face was completely inappropriate given the circumstances, but its presence was wholly involuntary. 

Cullen took a step backward as the realization struck him.  “Har- Inquisitor?!”

One side of Harella’s mouth curled into a soft smile.  For reasons unknown to Dorian, she looked pleased that her Commander had not recognized her.  The faint smile faded quickly as Dorian’s prompt forced her confession.  “A Venetori with the Wardens severed the mark’s connection to the fade.  I am unable to close the rifts.  As of right now, closing the breach is impossible.”

Dorian felt a pang of pity as the Commander fell to one knee, finally caving to his physical limitations and the loss of spiritual strength to carry on.  The one purpose he had left in his life was gone. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the comments and kudos. They are greatly appreciated.


	7. *Retreat back to Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is won, but the war is lost. Cullen's weariness catches up to him as he faces the reality that the Inquisition is loosing ground.

Cullen had taken two of his best captains out of Skyhold’s dungeons and put them to work.  Even with the competent help he was still overworked at keeping the peace between the soldiers and the mercenaries.  He was currently thankful for the unexpected battle that had broken out the day before he was to meet with Grand Duke Gaspard.  He had ordered the mercenaries to the front lines, hoping the Orlesian swords would save him the trouble of ever dealing with them again.  It worked to a varied degree as most of them quit the field with a small handful of regular soldiers following suit.  The Inquisition had lost the command post but he was determined that they would maintain their foothold in the area.  They had already battled Celene’s army a month ago to establish an outpost this deep in Orlais.

Was he fighting to keep their reach?  He cut down one man after another and took blows that he could have blocked but was too despondent to put forth the effort.  Acknowledging his recklessness, he admitted to himself that he had a small hope hidden within him that some Chevalier would get lucky and end Cullen’s wondering thoughts.  When did he last sleep?  Should he have met Gaspard today?  The dark hope surfaced again - a blade, a maul, either could lead him to the Maker’s warm embrace. 

Suddenly, he felt something that he thought was long buried in his past.  He searched through the field, the masses of soldiers, the burning fields to find its owner.  He saw her rushing the hill towards the lost command post.  She was with the one set of mercenaries he actually hated to see leave, Bull’s Chargers.  Raising a prayer to the Maker, he refocused his efforts and troops to handle the main advance and left the hill to the shock troops under Bull’s command.  He fought with renewed energy but his mind still wondered.  Fighting men was predictable, easy.  He laughed to himself as he thought of the challenge that demons offered.  That one elven mage stumbled with her elemental magic like an apprentice, her aura calling out to use something else more familiar which she denied herself.  It had been years since anything sparked his memories of Neria and her time at Kinloch Hold.

Ten years ago, Cullen had only just started his duties at Kinloch Hold when he found himself falling for Neria, an elven mage who returned his attentions.  They never made it past sweet words and secret touches in dark rooms, but he still remembered her fondly.  However, Kinloch turned out to be the first in a series of tragedies that became the constant theme of Cullen’s life.  Neria left, became a Grey Warden, saved the tower from abominations and by sacrificing herself, killed an archdemon to end the blight. 

Cheers broke out among the men, the day was won?  Cullen rolled the ache out of his left shoulder then ran a hand through his sweat slicked hair.  _I need to rest before meeting with Gaspard in the morning._ He was halfway up the hill before remembering that it was Gaspard who had initiated the attack.  _I need rest._  

The Iron Bull found him first and was accompanied by the distracting elf.  He almost hoped that she had been a vision that he could dismiss instead of a walking reminder that would constantly draw his attention.  The reality of her existence was hammered into him with her beaten appearance.  She should work on holding barriers. _Maker, how similar she was to Neria._

She was the first to speak which further set Cullen off guard as she addressed him as an acquaintance.  “Commander?  What are you doing here?”

He was too exhausted to tolerate anything beyond what was absolutely required and he opted to deal directly with Bull, knowing that the man was always succinct when it came to business.

“I cannot begin to thank you and your men for what you have done.  We were supposed to meet with Gaspard and carry out a few simple tasks to curry favor.  He was offering an alliance, but it seems that he has chosen to double cross us instead by attempting to strike down the Inquisition presence in Orlais.”  He let out a frustrated groan while he scrubbed at his face with one hand.  “It must be part of the thrice damned game.  He takes out the Inquisition and then there would be little room to argue over whom is the stronger ruler.”

Bull scoffed as if Gaspard’s actions should have been expected.  “Huh, I guess the Inquisition has a knack for making friends.  Both the Wardens and the Templars are hunting us down.  Well, the Inquisitor more specifically.”

Cullen groaned at the sky.  He _really_ didn’t want to deal with the Inquisitor.  He would almost welcome a clean death at the hands of either of her pursuers just to avoid having to cater to her insanity.  Had he finally reached his breaking point?  He contemplated how long it would take for him to bleed out should he be run through.  No, he swore himself to this cause, he **will** see that the breach is fixed.  “Maker’s breath.  What else can be thrust upon us?” 

Bull’s little elf spoke again.  This time her voiced played on the edges of familiarity.  “Why were you looking to ally with Gaspard?  I thought Celene was the goal?”

Cullen knew he was being rude, but he was hoping it would bother her to the point that she would leave him be.  Neria’s memory was haunting every other thought and this Charger was not helping him to keep his focus.  Cullen explained their current penniless status to Bull and was met with the arrogant laughter of a mage he thought he would never see again in his life.  _By the Maker, Dorian lives?_

“Oh my, this is more entertaining than the theater!  Harella, sweetheart, tell him the best part.” 

Cullen’s body tensed at the thought that Harella might be near, where would that viper…no, the elf?  “Har- Inquisitor?!”

She looked pleased at his discomfort, but managed to sound neutral when she spoke.  “A Venetori with the Wardens severed the mark’s connection to the fade.  I am unable to close the rifts.  As of right now, closing the breach is impossible.”

Pain shot through his knee.  He reached out his hand and was curious to find the ground under his fingers.  Cullen felt the defeat shred through him like a thousand razors.  The Maker had abandoned them.  They were lost.

 _And as the black clouds came upon them,_  
They looked on what pride had wrought,  
And despaired.

The world around him swirled.  His thoughts became disjointed.   _So, tired._   He knew that there were people around him.  One of them helped him to his feet and they walked.  A new darkness surrounded him.  His confusion kept his senses in a haze but he eventually pieced together that he was in a large tent with a few candles still burning.  Night had fallen.  The sinking feeling within him frayed his nerves.  _I need to speak to Knight-Commander Greagoir, there might be some issues with the new mages in the tower…wait.  Where am I?_

A voice called to him.  It reached out, steadied him, calmed his thoughts.  Then, he saw her.   _She’s not dead._  The dark haired elf stood before him flesh and blood.  He approached her in disbelief, his eyes never daring to stray from her.  He cupped her face and the reality of her skin made his fingers tremble.  Anxiety curdled the blood in his core and his breathing became labored. 

"Neria..."

He was vaguely aware that there were circumstances beyond them.  The world was ending.  He was awash with decade old regret, he should have said something, he should have gone with her, he could have protected her.  Here now, this was his second chance, a blessing from the Maker.  All the trials he endured had brought him this one moment of redemption.  He would not waste it.

He leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to hers.  When she welcomed the contact, his body reacted instinctively.  His arms coiled around her back forcing a deeper kiss.  As she returned each one his breathing became ragged, difficult to draw.  His blood heated and he could feel it igniting a raging desire within him.  Desire pushed him further as it directed his hands to explore and seek out her soft skin.  His right slid down her back, turning her body so his mouth could find new focus on her neck while his hands followed the curve of her hips to the front of her robes.  Deftly his fingers weaved through layers to find purchase against her flesh.  _She’s here, she wants me.  I need her._

He was further encouraged when she arched into his touch, her head falling back as the length of their bodies pressed together.  She mewled with pleasure reflexively when he captured her breast after having pushed the restrictive band out of the way.  

Memories drowned out everything around them.  All that mattered to him as oblivion loomed outside the tent was here in his arms, under his hands, and being suckled by his mouth.  

"Neria, my heart."  He regretted his words instantly when he felt her stiffen and push him away.   _No!_  She turned to cup his face in her hands, her thumbs rubbing at the stubble that had grown long enough to be soft to the touch.  

"Cullen, look at me."  He opened his eyes to look down at her, his breathing still rushed.  Kind, warm, strong, sweet to the taste, _oh-Maker he had finally tasted her_...his longing to finish what he had started tore at his insides.  She stared back at him and having not found what she was looking for, she called to him again.  "Commander, who am I?"

_My everything.  Dearest Neria, I should have..._

His eyes gained greater focus on reality as his lust cooled.  She wasn't her.  His mind flipped through faces and names, struggling to find recognition, _she looks so much like her_.  _Blessed Andraste, this can’t be happening!_

"Harella?"  It was a whispered disappointment.  He suddenly felt sick.  Yes, he was going to be quite sick.  He pushed her roughly and turned just in time to vomit.  His stomach wrenched at his guts as his body tried to cleanse itself, to purge the feelings that he knew he wouldn't forget.  Feelings for Neria, the intimacy with Harella - it all had to go.  But people didn't work that way, nothing could be so easy.  Shame and embarrassment pierced throughout his body as he dry heaved for a few moments before being able to speak. 

Still doubled over, bracing a hand on his leg, "Sweet Maker.  I didn't, that is...I don't…I don’t know what came over me."

Her cheeks had flushed so bright that it spread to the tips of her ears.  When did they come inside the command tent?  He rubbed at this face with both hands, raising his gaze to the skies in thanks for the small miracle there hadn’t been any witnesses to his lapse of sanity. 

“Commander, do you need a healer?  You seem unwell.”  She kept her distance, a timidness that was unnerving coming from her. 

Cullen instantly collected himself as the now recognized voice grated on his nerves once more.  “I’m fine.”

It was obvious that she didn’t believe him, but she took his words at face value nonetheless.  “As you wish.  With Gaspard’s betrayal and the Inquisition’s resources limited I would like to recommend that we take our forces back to Skyhold.  I think it would be prudent to regroup before returning to Orlais.”

 Cullen roared with outrage, his tiredness forgotten.  “We can't abandon the outpost!  Do you know what it took to gain this ground?”

She stood her ground and unexpectedly, offered a logical counter argument.  “Are you willing to pay the price to keep it?  These men will be slaughtered!  Both the Wardens and the Templars are hunting us down and they won't care if I'm with you or not.  The civil war between Celene and Gaspard as escalated.  Commander, I beg of you, give the order.”

“You want me to give the order?”  He sneered at her.  “It’s your army, you do with it as you like.”

She advanced on him in a rush and shoved his shoulders back.  “That’s not how this works!  I have presented my argument and if you can convince me that you are able to hold this outpost without wasting the lives of every man out there then I will support you.  Otherwise, we need you to lead us back to Skyhold.”

Harella had finally taken it too far.  Cullen was struck by how easily she pretended to place value on the life of anyone other than herself.  She actually wanted to fall back in favor of a better tactic.  How is it possible that she was so self-aware of her despicable personality traits that she was able to behave completely counter to them?  Her vallaslin was gone, her face was cut, bruised and her right eye was a bloodied blob of horror.  When she had pointed a finger at him during her argument, he recalled that her fingers had been recently broken and hastily repaired.  Cullen pushed aside their current dispute.  “What happened to you?”

She sighed and stared at the ground.  When she looked up to face him again she crossed her arms over her chest defensively.  “Honestly, I don’t know where to begin.  All of Thedas wants me dead and so far three people have come very close.  Don’t change the subject, is there an alternative or not?”

Hearing the answer to her physical state, he began to wonder if he had truly meant her change in mental state.  Cullen rested his hands on the pommel of his sword.  “We will leave tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.  I will have the captains begin preparations tonight.”

She gave him genuine smile.  “Thank you.”   She started to leave the tent but turned back as a thought came to her.  “Commander, I have two favors to ask of you.  The Iron Bull is speaking with his lieutenant before deciding if the Chargers will stay with the Inquisition or not.  Could you please see if they have made a decision?  I would ask, but the last time I spoke with Krem I was left limping out of Redcliffe.  The second, I need a raven to send to Leliana.  I have an idea on how to fix the mark.”

Cullen’s interest was piqued at the idea.  Solas has always been the only expert and even he admitted that he was barely knowledgeable about the mysteries of how it worked.  “You can fix it?”

“No, but I may know someone who can.  Something you said made me think of it.”

Pain sparked in his eyes and in the base of his neck.  He needed rest, urgently.  “Yes, Inquisitior.  Captain Rylen can get you a bird.  If that is all?”  He followed her out of the tent but went in the opposite direction, correctly deducing that she was avoiding the Bull and Krem.  Cullen approached the two men who were still in the midst of a discussion.

"Look, you are the final say in this.   Even if she were Andraste herself, if you say 'no', then that's the end of it."  Bull nodded to Cullen as he came near letting him know that he was welcome to the conversation.

Krem studied the Bull a moment, “But you have already decided.  You would leave me to run the Chargers.”  Bull’s silence answered for him.  “Fuck Chief, fuck her and fuck you!” 

“Krem, I know you’re pissed, but I also know that her change after the illness is for the better.  You were the one who brought up the Inquisition in the first place, ‘good fights for a good cause’.  I can believe that now.”

“Eat shit ya damn lummox!  That was before…”  Krem threw his shield at Bull which the Qunari caught easily.  “I won’t be stuck with making the decisions, you big ass!  You had better be right – _Hissrad._   We’ll stay with the Inquisition."

Krem stormed off.  Cullen eyed the Bull with curiosity, “You know we can’t pay you.”

“Not now, but eventually.  Have no doubt that I’m keeping a running tab.” 

“No doubt.”  Although he was a blade for hire, Cullen found that he had missed the man’s easy company.

Bull’s gaze pierced through Cullen.  He hated when he did that, in the past it let to discussions Cullen didn’t want to have.  “You don’t believe her either do you?”

Even the vague reference to her drew up memories of her skin between his teeth, her tongue on his lips… “Of course not.  Harella is a master at manipulation and it’s only a matter of time before she tires of this and reverts back to her old ways.”  He’d said it multiple times since her recovery, however time started to wear away at his conviction.  The greatest blow was when he received the report form Cassandra through the Chargers that things were going well in the Hinterlands.  So much so that the Arl had released the Chargers who had decided to wait for the Bull’s return at Skyhold, until eventually volunteering to travel with Cullen into Orlais. 

Bull clapped Cullen on the back as a gesture that he was taking his leave.  “Well, I’ve been up for the past two days.  I’m done.”  He stared at Cullen, his eye always seeing more than should be natural.  Cullen’s nerves tensed at the irrational fear that Bull would discover what he had done with Harella earlier.  Thankfully, he only offered his advice that Cullen should get some rest as well. 

***

Over the next two days as they travelled, Cullen had gotten more rest than he was accustomed to, but it was hard earned.  He hoped that the extra rest would help clear his mind.  It didn’t.  The memories of Harella plagued him when he would lie down.  He wished that his recollection had suffered the same vague haze that had him engage in the behavior to begin with.  Instead, he remembered it with vivid detail.  On the second night he caught himself becoming aroused at the recalled sensations, how she _wanted_ him in return.  He was instantly repulsed at himself more than her. 

During the journey he kept company with Dorian, who shared his low opinion of the Inquisitor.  The death of his father overshadowed any redeeming acts in Dorian’s eyes.  Everyone else had fallen into an amicable companionship with her.  Even Krem stopped avoiding her and cautiously started to give credence to the Bull’s claim of her change of heart.  Cullen’s mind wanted to play with ‘what ifs’ but he couldn’t take it, his soul couldn’t bear it.  If anything, his fantasy of Neria had shown him that he was becoming mentally unstable and that allowing himself to hope, and to then have Harella crush it would be the end of him.  He had to keep his distance. 

On the third night they made camp at the base of the mountain that led to the Emprise du Lion.  It was decided that they would avoid the main road back not only to avoid Orlesian attention, but because there were no rifts along this route.  It was agreed that the troops did not need to know that the mark was no longer working.  When the issue of money came up, Harella shrugged and said that she’d have to get creative. 

Cullen left Dorian’s company early that night as the mage had fallen asleep in his drunkenness.  He couldn’t blame the mage, he’d been ridden roughshod over and was only with them out of the necessity to avoid the Orlesian Templars.  He walked through the camp and for once, enjoyed the ambiance of it.  Morale had improved, despite the call to regroup.  The soldiers, like naive children, had instantly been taken in by the new behavior of the Inquisitor.  Maker, how they would be ruined when she turned.

A boisterous commotion called his attention.  Out of habit he believed it to be another fight between troops and mercenaries until he remembered that all the mercenaries had left, save one band.  A crowd had gathered at one end of the camp.  Cullen easily intimidated is way through the throng until he reached the center.  There, Varric seized his attention, “Curly!  Couldn’t resist could you?  Who will you be placing your bet on?”

“What are you talking about?” 

Cullen looked through the crowd as he listened to Varric explain.  “Her Inquisitorialness here has been winning arm wrestling matches against half of the Chargers.  She swears she can take on the Bull next.”  Varric was grinning with overflowing enjoyment at the prospect. 

Cullen finally found the subject in question and sure enough, she was sitting across from Bull at a table where they were positioned to engage in a modified arm wrestling match.  Instead of pushing to the side, they would pull against each other’s arm and Harella had managed to convince the Bull that she would need two hands to challenge him.  Shouts of encouragement erupted once they began to pull at each other.  It was over quicker than expected as Harella intentionally let go, the sudden release of tension in the Bull’s arm sent his own fist crashing into his face.  Laughter exploded through the ranks.  Bull’d been knocked to the ground by his own force but leapt to his feet, cursing as he chased after the Inquisitor whose speed was hindered by her laughter.  She couldn’t out run him in her state and after circling through the crowd briefly, she resorted to climbing a thin tree.

Bull stood at the base and unsheathed his maul and hefted it in his hands while he spoke.  “Boss!  I’m not sure that we’re done yet.”  The lightness of his tone indicated that his death threats _might_ not be sincere. 

“Varric!  How’d we do?”

Varric was still standing next to Cullen when he shouted up at her.  “You couldn’t buy a lame nag!”

“I am the richest corpse in all of Thedas!”  She waved one arm high over her head in playful celebration.  Her reaction garnered more cheers, the levity in the camp was foreign and yet,  comforting.  _This is how it should have always been._

Varric explained in a lowered voice, “We had a side bet that she couldn’t make Krem laugh.  Guess I shouldn’t underestimate her scheming.”  Cullen looked for the Tevinter and indeed, saw the man clutching at his sides.  The act had done more than amuse, but also released a great deal of turmoil that Krem had been holding onto.  He had needed the distraction and Cullen wondered at the Bull’s true involvement in the bet. 

“Bull!  Bull!”  Harella called down, still in stitches over her prank.  “Double or nothing, I have one word that will redeem myself.”

“One word?”  He spun the maul in his hand before tossing it up on his shoulder.  “Done!  Either way, I still win.”

“Ataashi!”  After she called out, Bull roared in excitement, the Chargers began to chant the strange word.  ‘Ataashi, Ataashi!’  The enthusiasm caught on amongst the soldiers quickly once it was translated. 

‘Dragon!  Dragon!  Dragon!”

Cullen actually caught himself laughing in earnest.  That lunatic was going to hunt down a dragon to refill the Inquisition’s coffers.  Creative indeed.

 


	8. Drunken Musings & Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Dorian build on their bromance. Unpredictable events cause the Inquisitor to flounder.

The march up into the snow covered mountains of the Emprise went quicker than Cullen could have imagined.  The soldiers were excited to be involved in taking on a dragon, further encouraged by Bull’s exhilaration at the prospect.  Cullen fell into the comfortable pattern of keeping his troops organized and on task when the Inquisitor issued orders concerning the current state of the area.  Villagers were cared for in terms of food and shelter as best as the men could help, another contingent of rogues were sent to flush out the locations of the Red Templars in the area and the remainder were set to task establishing a base of operations in Suledin Keep.  The Keep wasn’t much more than ruins, but it held the high ground and provided some shelter from the elements.  The current plan was to have the Inquisitor, her chosen party and veteran soldiers hunt down and kill, not one, but three dragons that the Inquisitor insisted were there.  No one had seen them, but the way she had ingratiated herself with his men, she could have had them believing that the Black City lay just beyond the horizon.  She practiced staff work with Solas while the Iron Bull and his men worked with the volunteer dragon hunters so that commands and maneuvers were seamless when they finally took on the wild beasts the following day.          

Cullen sensed a person come to stand at his side.  He knew without looking who it was.  “Tell me Commander, is it painful for you watch as well?”  Cullen was impressed how consistently Dorian was able to drink his weight in liquor and then manage to wake in the morning looking, as the ‘Vint himself put it ‘resplendent’. 

“Harella is fumbling through elemental spells like an apprentice.  When I was in the tower, I saw children catch on quicker.”

“Ah yes, I had almost forgotten that you had served time as a mage prison guard.”  Dorian _tsk_ ed when Solas attempted to instruct her again on ice casting.  “Solas is knowledgeable, but a ghastly teacher.” 

Cullen learned early on to never take Dorian’s barbs seriously.  Arguing or attempting to correct him always made things worse, so Cullen took it in stride and simply accepted his wry sense of humor.  “I would have thought a worldly man such as yourself would seize the opportunity to show off that talent you constantly boast about.”

Dorian sighed heavily implying that the world were a lesser place without his touch.  “Tempting, but no.  I might as well be pulling my own teeth while being smacked in the face with a live chicken.”  He gestured with an open palm at the two sparring mages.  “It would make more sense than that!”

His humor was effortless as one never knew what the eccentric Tevinter would say.  Cullen was glad that Dorian was staying, at least for the time being.  Their friendly banter was paused when they noticed Bull trudging toward them.  Walking through snow looked to be ungainly for the Qunari.  He had a broad grin that forewarned them that he had big plans rolling around in his massive head.  “Hey, Big Guy, we’re getting ready to take on three dragons and Boss says you're an accomplished necromancer.”

“No.”

“How dead does the dragon have to be for you to reanimate it?”

“No.”

“Stop for one minute and think on how badass it would be!”

“What are you a child?  I said no!”

“Can you get the dead dragon to fight the live one?”

“Oh, for the last- _hmm_.  Alright, you have me there.  That does sound interesting.”  Dorian stroked his mustache while his academic mind pondered the possibilities.  “It would be fascinating to see if the dragon spirit’s attacks would cause fire damage or spirit damage.  It could be possible to channel enough magic in just the right way that it would draw from the fade and remain corporal for longer period of time.”

“Yes!!  Yes, to whatever the fuck you just said.  So, you’re coming tomorrow.”  It wasn’t a question.  Bull punched Dorian lightly on the shoulder which still upset Dorian’s balance before returning to the training ring. 

Cullen cocked his head to one side when he spoke to Dorian.  “You are aware that she used him to get to you?”

“Yes.  She is not as subtle as she would like to think.”  Dorian’s confidence faltered slightly, a weariness slowing the usual sing-song cadence of his speech.  “Back at Val Chevin, I know what my father tried to do.  She risked her life to save me.”  Dorian reached out for Cullen’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes to ensure the warrior caught the seriousness of his words.  “And I don't mean to say she saved my life, she saved me, she saved who I am.”

When Dorian fell silent, he resumed watching Harella.  Solas had explained to Cullen what had happened in Val Chevin when Dorian refused to talk about it.  Cullen was unsure of the truth in the details until Dorian’s admission.  “I know she killed him in self-defense.  I do understand that, but I can’t simply…what she did at Skyhold is unforgivable.”

Cullen watched as the conflicting emotions warred with each other across Dorian’s face.  “And yet, you are starting to doubt.”  Cullen felt oddly betrayed at the revelation, as if his hatred of her needed to be shared with others to add to its legitimacy. 

Dorian tilted his head to Solas and Harella.  “Who wouldn’t?  She wants to quit blood magic.  Quitting blood magic after nurturing it for so many years is akin to farmers endeavoring to teach dragons to graze in fields like cattle.  Seems like a novel idea but you will always know in the back of your mind that cattle are easier.  The body doesn’t forget, regardless how much the mind may want to.  Her willpower will always be drawn to that which is most familiar.  The fact that she is trying, is…interesting.”  Dorian sighed to fill the silence.  Voicing his thoughts seemed to solidify his opinion.  “I shall assume that you have lingering doubts similar to mine.  Not pleasant is it?  It’s like having someone’s fat grubby fingers touching your freshly laundered small clothes.  Wearing them is horribly inconvenient and unsettling.”

He earned another snort of a laugh from the Commander.  “We argued before leaving Lydes.  I didn’t think much of it at the time, but her behavior was, as you so rightly put it, interesting.”  Dorian simply nodded in mutual understanding.  “I’m surprised that you are still entertaining the idea of staying with the Inquisition considering how she is ‘unforgivable.’”

“I’ve had time to think.”

“You think clearly when your blood is diluted to the point it’s flammable?”

“How can you think clearly when you're sober?  Inebriation brings out our truest selves and removes barriers within our minds.”

Cullen laughed in spite of how rude his teasing might have appeared.  “One of your mentors teach you that?”

“No, many nights of uninhibited lust and partaking in unlimited indulgences did.  When have you ever met a drunk who was nothing but brutally honest about what they thought of you, the world or themselves?”  Dorian dwelled on his unintentional epiphany.  “But it does sound rather good doesn't it?  I should try selling that line to Varric.  It’s far more insightful than most of the drabble he vomits on paper.” 

“I thought you said he basically shit those stories?”

“No, Commander, that is what the pages are used for when the unwitting consumer realizes what they have purchased.”  Dorian was once again distracted by Harella’s bumbling.  It was not long before he hit his breaking point, “Fasta Vass!  The idiot is either going to get herself killed or us in the process trying to learn from that ridiculous looking hobo!” 

Dorian gracefully made his way over to Harella and shooed Solas aside.  “Help us with the dragons Dorian.  Oh, Dorian can you show me basic magic so I don’t get myself killed?  Must I do everything?”  His exaggerated commentary was more for entertainment than it was admonishing.  He began instructing Harella like a true artist of the craft.  There was no doubt that Solas was a master, but Dorian’s time in a Tevinter circle was evident in his patience and selection of exercises.  The difference was astounding and it was easy to see that Dorian loved the attention. 

Cullen was vaguely aware of what they were doing, the scene eventually fading into a blur of color that served as a background to his thoughts.  Back in Lydes, she could have stopped him at any point.  She could have said something and yet she didn’t.  She even encouraged him, he could still hear the hunger that rose from her throat into a delectable moan.  He was aware that Harella had wantonly indulged with some of the mercenaries.  When rumors circulated about her violent tastes that often didn’t require consent, he had tried his best to keep his recruits from her.  Cullen repressed all thought associated with that night.  If he could survive a month under the temptations of an actual desire demon, then he could easily deflect the attentions of one depraved whore. 

 _Whore, abomination, barriers, labels._   Maybe Dorian was on to something. With every person around him turning to her side, he was willing to try anything to understand how they could ignore the months of abuse by her hand.  Cullen made his way to the office that had been set up in one of the few intact rooms left in the Keep.  He caught the attention of a messenger, “Please inform the Inquisitor that I will need to speak with her in my office after dusk concerning tomorrow’s hunt.”

***

Harella’s body ached, screaming for any way to ease the tension in her muscles and the bruising of her pride from Dorian’s relentless instruction.  She was thankful for the message from Cullen that he wanted to talk to her, otherwise Dorian would have worked her until lyrium seeped from her blisters.  She waited out the final moments before the meeting in the courtyard that was now teaming with activity. 

“I’m curious at your thoughts.”  Solas appeared so suddenly she was almost certain that he had fade-stepped next to her.   

She shrugged off the peculiarity and accepted his company.  “I don’t understand.  There are certain key elements that don’t change, shouldn’t change.  Did Blackwall have the same stench as the rest of the Wardens?”

Solas’ eyes narrowed with revulsion as the unwanted memory surfaced.  “You could not tell?  It was rancid.”

She rolled her eyes, “Difficult to focus on such things with a boot in your face.”  She wondered away from the courtyard with Solas following until they were isolated from the bustle of the army.  “Imshael should have been here.  The fact that he isn’t…bothers me.  This whole world bothers me.  What Harella did here should not have been possible, Blackwall shouldn’t be an actual Warden.”

“Just as you presumably should not be here?”

“Astute.  Although, we both know the reason for that.”  The silence clung in the air.  She was aware that Solas would never regret what he’d done to try and save his world.  Solas was one of those standards, though she would never reveal that to him.  He already tormented himself over past mistakes, never knowing that his actions were needed for the formation of the future, for the continuation of this world.  She had already affected too much as it was.  She could not risk disrupting his role as well. 

She nodded toward the busy soldiers to indicate the Inquisition as a whole.  “It worries me because it makes this more difficult.  I no longer have the confidence of foresight.  There have been too many changes.”

“Ah.  Then you are no different than the rest of us when it comes to that regard.”

“I’m glad that amuses you.”  The trace of a smile vanished, and she patted his arm to give reassurance there was no offense.  “I’m not giving up.  We can do this.”  Her mouth curved up into a mischievous grin.  “I haven’t forgotten that I’m still mad at you.”

“As I suspected.  Perhaps once you are back at Skyhold and are able to fully use all of your resources at hand, the answer may reveal itself.  A fresh perspective tends to do that.”  Solas gave a nod that was a vague echo of a bow before taking his leave.  “Mahvir, halani elgar”

“Mahvir, Samahl.”  She could have burst into laughter when he jerked his head around to scowl at her.  His ire was brief when he returned to his departure.  She made a mental note to continue using the moniker. 

Strategically placed torches had replaced the sun’s light and provided a guide to Cullen’s centrally located office.  She let herself in knowing she was expected.  The room was small and housed only a desk and three chairs.  She found him slimed down to his leather breeches and a cotton shirt that looked large even on his thickly muscle bound frame.  The sight was distracting.  She hadn’t even noticed that she held her breath until he spoke.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He kept his distance by folding his arms and leaning back against the desk. 

There was no question as to what he was referring.  She felt a rise of panic.    _Can he see right through me?_ “But…I, I did.”

Cullen ground his teeth as he practically growled at her.  “I am tired of your games.”

She approached him with a guarded voice, tamping down her frustration.  She tried to stay composed but it felt impossible as she remembered that moment in Lydes.

“And I’m tired of you!”  _I’m constantly having to prove myself._ “I’m not asking you to like me.”  _Please stop hating me._ “but for fuck’s sake try and put forth a little more effort to work together.” _I feel like I’m drowning._     

He didn’t flinch, his eyes stayed on her as if weighing the truth of her words.  She dipped her head as if the weight of all her responsibilities were suddenly draped over her neck.  She resorted to a whisper.  “I can’t do this without you.”

Cullen dropped his hands to his sides to push off the desk but one hand slipped.  He caught himself, but with far less grace than a warrior should exude.  “Have you been drinking?”

He answered as he found his footing again.  “If I hadn’t been then I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

She sighed despondently, keenly aware of the intended insult.  “Fair enough.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

She thought about running out, but knew that was pointless.  She could force him into a sleep which would only increase his distrust of her.  The silence caused by her internal debate brought Cullen one slow step at a time closer to her, a physical countdown of how little time she had left to make a decision.

“I…I don’t know.”  She knew.  She knew but was frightened how he would react.  Josephine was already gone, she couldn’t trust Leliana and what if she lost Cullen too?  He was already stressed to a breaking point.

“No.  More.  Games.”  He towered over her, his breath puffed on her face with each word.  “You no longer have the protection of the mark.  I have nothing left to live for so killing you or abandoning my post have actually crossed my mind several times.”

Her panic spread rapidly through her body creating small tremors she couldn’t control.  Her eyes darted around the room and found no escape.  Cullen’s patience finally wore out and he grabbed her arm.  Her breath slammed in her lungs and she lurched in pain while the snaking fingers of his lyrium infused Templar reach pushed at her mana, constricting her connection to the fade.  “I’ll not ask again.”

“It felt good!”  She called out in haste, hoping that anything she said would lessen his hold on her. He released her all at once, causing her to stumble backwards into the wall.  Her voice was quiet as she directed her answer to the corner of the room, unable to meet his judging stare.  “It felt good and I didn’t want it to stop.”

She could hear him pacing the room like a caged beast debating his next move.  Even with her shallow admission, she could hear the disgust in his voice.  It stung more than she thought it would.  "I would like to make myself clear.  I will never be available to you.  If you wish to conduct yourself like an animal, then save it for one of your 'pets' back at Skyhold." 

 _Oh, joy_.  Now there is that to look forward to once they returned.  Just when she felt as if she were gaining ground something else would cave beneath her feet. 

A knock at the door thankfully snapped Cullen’s attention away from her.  “Raven for the Inquisitor.”

Harella thanked the messenger when she handed the paper over and left just as suddenly as she arrived.  Harella skimmed the note then handed it to Cullen with a smile.  Nothing he could say could take this small victory away from her. 

“Who is Avernus?”

“He’s a Warden mage with experience in dealing with tears in the Veil.  He might be able to provide a fresh perspective and help Solas figure out how to fix the mark.  I thought of him when you mentioned Neria.  She met him while she was traveling during the blight.”

“How would you...right.”  He scoffed with a chuckle.  “Spirit.”  He finished reading aloud, “’…will travel with Grand Enchanter Fiona upon her return from Denerim.’  Who is this other man traveling with Fiona?”

She snatched the note back and protectively stuffed it into the folds of her robes.  “A chance at redemption…possibly…hopefully.  Regardless, you should forgo your homicidal thoughts until I at least have a chance to get myself killed in the process of repairing the mark.  Since we are being so blunt with each other, tell me this: do you think that I am currently acting in the best interests of the Inquisition?"

She watched him think with her heart lodged high in her chest.  Relief snipped the cord of apprehension when he finally answered.  "For the time being...yes.  Do not mistake my words, should you either turn into the abomination you were or an actual demon, I will strike you down without hesitation.  We’ve come too far to have this all snatched away."

"I believe you.  It is good to know that you are willing to give me a chance."  She nodded at him abruptly and headed for the door. 

He was audibly taken aback.  "My opinion matters to you?"

"Of course Commander.  It always has."   _More than you can imagine._   Outside, she blindly headed for the Chargers encampment outside the walls of the Keep, oblivious to anyone or anything she passed.  Distance was her goal.  She sat at the fire with them and although she smiled and laughed when appropriate, she did not engage in any of the conversations.  Her mood must have been easily read as they did not attempt to draw her in.  The night wore on and she was eventually left alone with the fire as it shrunk into embers.  She had played out the confrontation in the office a hundred times in her head.  Each time she always came to the same conclusion: _He wouldn't understand.  He can never know._

***

The following morning Cullen was up before the sun had crested the horizon.  He walked out of the office where he had slept and wondered around the Keep as he waited for more soldiers to be up and moving before truly starting his day.  His drifting mind carried him to a terrace that overlooked the massive valley that was once home to Red Templar camps.  They were finally doing it, finally making a difference.  His faint hangover reminded him of the previous night.  He didn't get the answers he wanted.  She was hiding something.  Perhaps Dorian's tactic works better if the other party had fewer inhibitions.  The thought of secretly getting the Inquisitor drunk shocked him, _what in the Void is the matter with me?_   The emotion quickly transformed into resignation, what was always the matter - Harella.  His musings didn’t have time to fully form, his plans couldn’t hit a conclusion as he began to shiver from the cold.  It felt strange and the reason didn’t occur to him until a gust of wind snaked its way through his loose undershirt to prick at his skin.  He had slept out of his armor for the first time in over a month.  In a cloud of frustration he made his way back to the office. 

 _I was drunk.  Nothing more._   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mahvir - (until) Tomorrow  
> halani elgar - Helpful spirit  
> samahl - Laughter


	9. What Has Magic Touched that it Has not Spoiled?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New concerns over Hawke surface and the research into fixing the mark unveils a terrible answer.

The trip back to Skyhold was uneventful.  If there had been any bandits they would have reconsidered their targets once they noticed the contingent of soldiers carting three dragon carcasses.  Every horse that was available was used to pull the wagons leaving everyone on foot.  Harella was in the front of the group with Bull, Dorian, Varric and Solas while the Chargers brought up the rear protecting the villagers who decided to join the Inquisition, assisting however they could in order to get out of the Emprise.  It was a logical choice, for many, the Emprise held too many bad memories of the Red Templars’ activities. 

The outline of Skyhold began to fill the horizon.  Harella was dreaming of a chair with a cup of hot soup when a glint of blue captured her attention.  She locked her eyes on the battlements, hoping she was mistaken.  "Oh, fuck me."

"It's about time you warmed up to the idea!"  Bull laughed at his own joke, everyone else was too tired to offer a polite chuckle.

She had to be wrong, please let her be wrong.  "Your sodding ancestors!  Varric is that Fenris?"

Bull quickly caught on to her distress and sobered his mood instantly.  “Who's Fenris?”

"Someone you absolutely **do not** want pissed at you.  Judging by my good luck, he's here because he's like the rest of Thedas and wants my head on a pike.”  Harella broke her fixation with the figure on the battlements.  “Varric please tell me this is a social call."

"Sorry, Ashes, I only sent word when Hawke left so Fenris would stop pestering me about him.  I thought the two of them would have gone back into hiding after old Harella kicked Hawke out on his ass."  The nickname still felt odd, but it was preferred over the old Inquisitor’s name.  Varric started using it after the bet in Emprise when Bull threatened to turn her into ashes on the pyre if he ever got her out of that tree. 

The palpable tension between Varric and Harella had Bull ready his weapon which set Dorian on the defensive as well.  Once within the gates she did not wait long for the inevitable confrontation.  Fenris seemed to glide down the steps into the courtyard.  He was a little tall for an elf, thin yet muscular, and had wild white hair.  The most notable of his features were his lyrium infused tattoos that were much more than decorative. 

“Where’s Hawke!”  Fenris’ lyrium markings blazed at his heightened emotional state, causing the soldiers behind Harella to rush forward, ready to place themselves between her and the enraged elven warrior.

“Stand down!  Back off!  No one goes near him!”  She knew as well as Varric that Fenris could cut through the phalanx like a hot knife through butter. 

The soldiers were hesitant until a second voice echoed the command.  “Do as your Inquisitor says!”  Cassandra approached the group with her sword drawn but cautious.  Judging by her reluctance to immediately challenge Fenris, she most likely believed Varric’s written tales of his battle prowess.  As much as Varric tended to exaggerate, perhaps in the instance of Fenris he may have understated his abilities. 

Varric held his hands up in a calming gesture, or perhaps to show he wasn’t armed.  Harella would have believed either one.  “Easy Broody, we thought he was with you.”

“I have letters, from both you and he, stating the time of his return and for weeks, nothing!”  Fenris turned on Harella, slowly stepping closer.  “I know what sort of demon you are, blood mage!  I know what you have done to others who have crossed your path.  You will not find me so easily cowed.  What have you done to him?”  Fenris unsheathed a sword which should have been overly large and bulky for anyone, especially an elf, yet he wielded it like it was a natural extension of his own body, elegant and deadly.  His unique baritone added a sharpness to his words.  “ **Where is he!?** ”

The situation was escalating quickly and as much as Harella was becoming accustomed to being knocked around, drawing in so many others was not a favorable outcome.  She scrambled for anything that might distract him enough so she might have a chance to calm him down. 

“Teth a!  Fenriskost.  Maraas shokra.  Shanedan, kadanshok ebadim ebra sala.”  She had intended to capture Fenris’ attention but was met with that of the entire courtyard.  Astounded eyes nearly fell out of heads.  It was not common for anyone to speak Qunlat, much less a Dalish elf who had supposedly grown up in isolation from the rest of Thedas.  Even the Iron Bull could only manage a ‘ _damn_ ’ before she picked up again, not wanting Fenris to lose his focus on her.  “Please, Fenris, we honestly don’t know where he is, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

He eased his stance and lowered his sword to finally sneer at her.  “Na’thek”

“Let’s go to the war room.”  She didn’t want to lose the momentum and quickened her pace that left Cassandra, Solas and Fenris following her up the stairs to the main castle.  Leliana was waiting on the main landing, Harella noticed that she had schooled her expression well, but knew that she was surprised to see the full entourage splintering off in the courtyard below.  Harella stood next to the spymaster.  “Something the matter?”

“No.”  Whatever thoughts had held Leliana’s attention were lost to the winter’s cold breeze when she brusquely led the way into the castle.  

Once in the war room, everyone instinctively stood around the table ready to delve into pressing issues.  The customary pattern was broken as Fenris snapped at her in impatience.  His strained voice indicated that now he was at least trying to keep his anger in check.  “How do you not know where Hawke is?  You have eyes everywhere and you,” He glared at Harella. “you are the reason he left the Inquisition in the first place.”

Despite his relationship with Hawke, Harella knew that Fenris hated magic and saw all mages as being easily lured to temptation by demons.  She decided to keep her current condition to herself.  "I've had memory problems due to a recent illness.”  She was going to help him.  It was a concern that Hawke had vanished, yet she didn’t want to give Fenris the idea that he could show up and begin ordering her people around.  She turned back to the war table.  “Business first.  Mistress Chalet traveled with us from Sahrnia.  I have asked that she serve as Skyhold’s Head of Staff, unless you have any objectionsSister Nightingale?”

“None.”

“Good, I asked her to begin work the moment we arrived.  She has been tasked with fixing up the castle and finding occupations for the pilgrims who came with us.  The Commander stayed behind in the Emprise to finish flushing out the Red Templars in that area.  As for our relations with Orlais..."

Leliana cut in.  "Cullen sent a raven before you left Lydes informing me of Gaspard’s betrayal.  According to my informants, this was a last minute decision due to the news of Empress Celene's increased relations with Antiva.  We recently learned that Josie returned to her post as the official diplomat between King Fulgeno of Antiva to Empress Celene of Orlais.  A solid alliance is anticipated from her arranged marriage with Celene's champion."

“Michel de Chevin?  He’s still her Champion?”

“Of course.  He has never faltered in battle, until then he continues to hold that title.”

“Wonderful.  With the coin collected from Antiva and those she may be pilfering from the Inquisition’s old stores, she could buy out any of Gaspard’s supporters.”

“Which means he may get more aggressive in his tactics.  Speaking of Chevin, there are reports of a significant battle between the Wardens and the Templars from the Montsimmard Circle just south of Val Chevin.”

“We were there.  The Templars were trying to hunt me down and at the time I was in the captivity of the Wardens who were too preoccupied with raising a demon army to notice the Templars approaching or our escape.”  Harella rolled her eyes as she remembered the unpleasant experience. 

“I am glad to know that the reports I received had not been exaggerated.  A demon army?  This is an interesting development.”

“So, the rescue of Blackwall turned into him roughing us up a bit then that Venatori shit Erimmond closed the mark’s connection to the fade, which is why I needed to get Avenus here.  Has he arrived yet?”

“Fiona and her companions are in the tower that you had redesigned for the mages.”  One of the items she had asked to be done before she left for the Hinterlands was to relocate the mages from the dungeons into a tower that wasn’t being used.  Cullen reluctantly agreed only when Leliana supported the idea.  _I wish he were here._

She yearned for the familiarity and tentative trust that she had been able to establish with him.  Although he had summarily cast her down in the Emprise, he did seem to believe her enough that she no longer felt threatened by him.  A professional relationship was all that she needed, all that she could hope for.  Leliana was a different story.  Her curt responses and invasive stares were unnerving.  Harella knew that she was formidable, but trust worthy?  That would likely be impossible.  She would have to tread lightly around her. 

"Excellent, Solas, could the two of you work together to see what you can figure out?"

"Of course Halani.  If there is nothing else that pertains to me, I wish to begin immediately."  She shook her head and he was gone. 

“The outpost in Lydes was lost in the aftermath of the battle with Gaspard, but on the bright side, a stronger presence was established in the Emprise which cut off Corypheus’ access to the red lyrium mines.  Another bonus, we killed three dragons.   I've asked Ser Rylen to find skilled hunters within the ranks to skin and tan the dragon hides for armor.  Ser Perrin is seeing to the accounting of the treasure we found.  We should be able to keep the Inquisition running for a month or two longer, but we still need to gain more allies and stop the outside sabotaging in order to have a more reliable source of income.”

“You mean Josephine.” 

Leliana seemed reluctant to bring up the topic, so Harella played her hand openly to quell any suspicion the spymaster may have.  “Is there any way that we can get her back or meet with her to reach some sort of agreement?”

“She will never meet with any Inquisition representative.  That I know for certain.  As for her returning, I believe that your only option would be kidnapping.”

“That may not be a bad idea.”  Harella placed her hands on the table then spread them wide apart as her head hung loose from her shoulders.  Staring at the floor, she ventured, “Dare I even ask what happened that caused her to leave?”

“No.  It’s too personal for this setting.”

“I understand.  Now, as for Garrett Hawke, do you have any idea what happened to him once he left Skyhold?”

She noticed that Leliana’s eyes glanced at Fenris then back at her.  Whatever she was going to say, she reconsidered due to his company.  “He did not have much to offer the Inquisition therefore I did not assign anyone to follow him.  I can send some inquiries out among my people, but if he was able to hide from us before, he may do so again."

Fenris’ anger had him on the knife’s edge of sensitivity and the unintentional insult to Hawke’s usefulness set his lyrium aglow.  His eyes narrowed on the impassive spymaster.  She changed her stance, putting herself on the defensive which led Harella to wonder where Leliana had hidden her daggers since it was evident now that she was assuredly armed.  Harella broke the tension, “If you could please.”

“As you wish.”

Fenris growled in frustration.  This was not the answer that he had come for however, he was left with no choice but to wait for news.  He brushed past Leliana, missing her by a hair’s width.  Harella pitied him, his pain.  She knew his background as a slave in the Imperium and how he was grossly abused by his master for most of his life.  Before meeting Hawke, Magister Denarius gave Fenris his markings that turned him into a weapon and in the process stole his early memories away.  The one thing in his life that had any semblance of stability and happiness would be Hawke.  She wished there was something she could say what would help, but she knew he responded better to action.  Words would be empty and pointless. 

Leliana watched the closed door as though she were counting his steps while he retreated towards the main hall.  After a determined amount of time, she looked back to the two women at the war table.  “The last that I heard, Hawke was following after Stroud when he and Blackwall were taken by the Wardens.”

Harella cursed under her breath.  “Shit.  Thank you for not telling him.  Blackwall is stationed at the outpost in Val Chevin, could Hawke be there too?”

“Possibly.  The Warden activity in Orlais has been difficult to follow.  Their actions have become erratic, but since the fight with the Templars, I have more leads.”

“At least one good thing came from their attacking us.  Orlais seems to be fat with conflict these days and if we can keep an eye on them, so much the better.”  Leliana merely nodded in agreement.  She needed to let them know more about the Venetori connection, but not today.  Exhaustion was already beginning to seep into her bones.  “Seeker Cassandra, do you have anything?”

“The Hinterlands have been stabilized.  We have some aid from the Ferelden monarchy but, the area still suffers from the blight therefore the recruits are few.  I was able to convince Horse Master Dennent to allocate some mounts and come to Skyhold to care for them.”

“We have horses?”  Cassandra gave one short nod, slightly bothered that she had to repeat herself.  “We have horses.”  Harella tilted her head up to the ceiling, overcome with relief that the map spread out before them had instantly become smaller, the cities closer together.  With the complete shit-storm that was swirling around her since she had awoken in Thedas, this had to be the best news that anyone could possibly deliver.  “You truly are a blessing Seeker.”

Cassandra stiffly responded, unaccustomed to receiving sincere gratitude from Harella.  “You are welcome.”

The relief at knowing that she would never have to walk from Lydes to Skyhold ever again faded into fatigue that pulled down on her.  “I do not think that there is anything else urgent for today.  Could we meet again tomorrow to address any unresolved issues?”

In unanimous agreement, the three women left the war room.  Anxiaty was nibbling away at Harella’s insides.  She sought out Fiona and with pained effort she asked how the mages were settling into the new arrangements and other matters of business before asking after her travel companion.  Once assured that he was alright and spending time the chambers that Fiona had found for him, Harella headed straight for the library. 

As she had hoped, Dorian was there perusing the shelves.  “I must admit that I’m all confusion and heartily disoriented at returning here.  How uncommonly rude of you to give up my quarters in the dungeons?  I shan’t know what to do with myself now that my magic isn’t constantly being suppressed by dampening wards.”  He pulled a book of the shelf and threw it in a corner on top of a growing stack.  “Your selection here is atrocious.”

Harella could listen to Dorian complain all day.  He no longer had a desire to kill her and strangely took pride in the condition of her eye, claiming that the new look afforded her a better chance at re-establishing herself.  He had also informed her that yes, she was quite welcome.  

Earlier, she thanked Solas wholeheartedly after his idea to appeal to Dorian’s vanity by fumbling through their lessons in the Emprise.  She never admitted to Solas that Dorian actually was a better teacher and lamely used the excuse of repairing relationships as a means to keep him as her instructor.  “A discomfort that I hope you will soon learn to bear.” 

“Oh, assuredly and with utmost eloquence.  Well, at least once I have my clothing order from Tevinter in addition to the dragon webbing robes that I have earned.”  He quirked an eyebrow at her, challenging her to forget their agreement to his assistance with the dragon hunt.  Now that he was actually looking at her, he sighed with feigned irritation.  “What is the matter with you that you have that stupid grin stuck on your face?”

She managed ease her smile enough to answer.  “I have a surprise for you.  Come with me.”

“I typically don’t like your type of surprises.”  His old hesitance surfaced as he crossed his arms and held his ground.

“This one you will.”

“I had a lover who said that once.  It also wasn’t a surprise that I liked.”  Despite his reservations, Dorian did cave and follow her out of the library.  She led him out through the great hall, out to the gardens then weaving back through the guest wing of the castle. 

“I hope that you are not too settled in wherever you decided to squat.  I thought that these chambers might suit you.”

“Squat?  How dare you imply that I deposited myself in the first empty corner that I found!”  Judging by his instant defense, that was exactly what he had done.  Her nerves were fraying with each passing moment.  Her heart hammered in her chest.  _What if he became angry at my methods?_   She stepped away from Dorian’s door and placed herself at the one next to it.  _It’s far too late now._

“Before you become too attached, perhaps you would like to meet your neighbor?”  Without waiting for a response, she knocked on the door.  A strapping man with whiskey tanned skin and short black hair answered the door.  His confusion swiftly shifted to joy when he saw his old friend in the hallway.  “Dorian!  I was told you had left the Inquisition!”

Dorian was frozen.  “Felix?”  It as a question that also asked if what he saw was even real.  Felix chuckled at his disbelief and clapped him on the shoulder to prove his eyes correct.  The jolt spurred Dorian to rush forward and capture Felix in an enthusiastic embrace.  “Felix!”  He pushed Felix back at arms’ length and cupped his hands somewhat roughly around Felix’s face.  “Maker, you are a refreshing sight and you look well, healthy even.”  He let go and pivoted his head between Felix and Harella.  “What are you doing here?”

Felix took Dorian’s reaction in stride and laughed at his surprise.  “I guess she didn’t warn you that I was here.  It’s good to see you too.  The Inquisition’s spymaster had her people pick me up in Tevinter shortly after I had begun to make appeals in the Magisterium to root out the Venetori.  They defended me against assassins then brought me to Denerim where I met up with Grand-Enchanter Fiona.”  He paused in his story to glance at Harella.  She had told him that the circumstances of his recovery were to remain a secret.  Knowing how close the two men were, she decided to let Dorian know.

“Fiona had him undergo the Joining to stop the spread of the Blight within him.”

“You…you mean that he’s a, a Warden now?”  Dorian rounded on Felix.  “Did you have no say in this?”

“I did.  By the time I made it to Denerim I had one foot in the Void and the other in a pyre.  She  presented me with an opportunity and I took it.”  Dorian paced the hallway, muttering to himself.  This was the response that Harella had feared.  Felix was bemused at Dorian’s reaction. 

“I…kaffas, it doesn’t matter.”  Dorian released whatever reservations he had.  He walked up to Harella and clasped her hands in his.  “I am thankful.  I know that you did not have to do this.  How did you know that would cure him?”

“Spirit, remember?  Besides, it’s not a full cure, he has only about thirty years but it is better than the weeks he would have had otherwise.”  She saw a glimmer of regret in Dorian’s eyes, but he knew she was right about Felix’s borrowed time.

“Fiona originally refused, but the Inquisitor blackmailed her into offering me the chance by threatening to reveal Grey Warden secrets.  Turns out that having a spirit for an Inquisitor can be rather helpful.”

Dorian nearly laughed at the thought.  “Ah!  There’s the old Harella that I missed so dearly.”  A sickened look crossed his face.  “May she rot in the Void.”

Felix nudged Dorian, “Come on then.  I’m starving and I want to catch up on what has happened since Redcliffe.”  He tugged at Dorian’s Ferelden clothing.  “Taking a guess at your borrowed clothes, it’s bound to be an interesting story.”

***

The following week was one filled with discovering a new routine.  Skyhold was quickly becoming presentable and in some areas, actually quite impressive.  Harella tried to speak with Fenris but he bristled at her presence, “A tower full of apostates.  Two Tevinter Magisters.  Quite a collection you have here.  Oh, yes, when disaster strikes it will be a glorious one at that.  Find Hawke, you will be done with me, and I will gladly distance myself from this nest of abominations.”

Fenris spent his days brooding or sparing with Cassandra.  With his fighting abilities placed on display, everyone gave him a wide breadth which was probably why he continued to meet with her.  Solitude suited him and his current state of mind. 

The mood in Skyhold was improving significantly from when Harella had first arrived.  Repairs were finally reaching completion and the tavern became a fun repreave for many.  Dorian and Felix had become permanent fixtures both there and in the library.  As hard as they worked, they also knew how to relax and coax a similar mood out of others.  Bull and the Chargers helped Captain Rylen with training and Ser Perrin only complained twice a day about her new duties as treasurer. 

The end of the week saw Cullen back from the Emprise.  He had brought back some soldiers and then dispatched a fresh set as from Skyhold along with Captain Rylen to fill in for his absence.  Cullen had also brought a handful of mages that had been on the run from the Orlesian Templars.  Harella was able to meet him at the gate with the warning she had received from one of the castle lookouts.  She couldn’t help but feel excitement to see him again.  He walked at the head of his party.  His shoulders swayed purposefully as he strode across the drawbridge, head held level, always attentive to the what lay ahead.  When he approached her, a swell of relief filled her chest when she saw that he did not glare.  His regarded was neutral, a blessed improvement over his open animosity.  “Inquisitor.”

“We have horses.”  She bubbled with joy at the fact.  “Cassandra worked out a deal with Horse Master Dennet who has also chosen to join the Inquisition.”

Cullen nearly sputtered in surprise, but was quickly covered up by his excitement at the news.  “Dennet?  Then we have some Ferelden Chargers.”

“Not just some, twelve!”  Finally, someone else who understood her delight at having horses.  Perhaps everyone should be made to trek halfway across Orlais to gain the appreciation.  Cullen smiled.  Knowing the torture he suffered under Harella, the personal torment he placed on himself after having to retreat from Lydes, she felt a small victory at causing him to find a little moment of happiness. 

“Inquisitor.”  The two of them turned to see Solas approaching.  “Avernus and I may have made some progress.  If you would?”

Cullen nodded toward Solas.  “Go ahead.  I have some matters to take care of before giving a full report on the progress made in the Emprise.”  He was a few yards away when he turned to call over his shoulder, “May the Maker’s blessing bring you luck.”

Solas and Harella crossed the training grounds and climbed four flights of stairs in the mages’ tower to the floor which had been allocated for Avernus’ studies.  The fragile old man greeted them with the minimum amount of cordiality that was considered polite.  Warden Avernus was actually centuries old, kept alive by blood magic from when he sequestered himself away in the old Warden stronghold at Dragon’s Peak.  A rift had been opened there and he sealed the keep off to prevent the demons from attacking the nearby village.  With Neria’s help, he had been able to close the rift, which is why Harella had thought to bring him to Skyhold.

“Solas explained to me that you were familiar with my research.”  Research.  To gain his knowledge on tears in the Veil, he had not only resorted to blood magic, but had mercilessly used his fellow Wardens as test subjects.  She nodded in response, simply eager to hear what they had uncovered.

“Then you know that it was not only a spark of blood magic that closed that rift.  I also called upon the power of the taint found within the Hero and her companion to create the right combination.”  He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to connect the dots. 

She had. 

A chill consumed her body and she fell into a chair.  As she sat, she removed the gloves she wore to hide the fact that her hand no longer glowed.  Staring into her emerald green palm, she finished his line of thought.  “More power is needed to reconnect this with the fade.  A blood sacrifice.  A _tainted_ blood sacrifice to prevent the demons on the other side from corrupting the mark.” 

When her voice became shaky, Solas’ crouched in front of her and held her hands.  He waited for her to look at him.  “Halani, I promise to you that we have explored every option, experimented with our lyrium reserves and even with some of the most powerful mages that we have here at Skyhold.  There is no other way.”

“Avernus, couldn’t we use you?”  She didn’t care how heartless it sounded, the alternative was unthinkable.

Avernus was wholly unfazed, he had expected the question.  “I know that I would be a likely offering but I do need to perform the ritual and due to the unnatural extension of my life, I am concerned that my soul would not offer the required amount of power.  For such important concerns, it is far better to overdo than to under do.  Plus, it would be a shame if you had to attempt it twice, not knowing how the first attempt might change the mark.” 

Her words caught in her throat causing her to practically croak when she spoke to Solas.  “I’ll tell him.  It’s only right.”

Time faded.  It no longer existed.  She could have left Avernus’ study moments ago or years.  Her body was numb to everything around her.  Reality reappeared when she reached the library.  Dorian and Felix were talking over a table spread out with tombs.  They both looked up at the same time.  Their warm greetings fell quickly into concern.  Dorian stepped forward as he voiced his concern.  “Ashes, you look like death.  What has happened?”

“I.”  She was faltering, flailing for help that she knew was nonexisitant.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  The world was greater than one person.  Opening them again, she met the concern on the two men’s faces.  But wasn’t it singular people who made life worth the world?  Her heart bled when she finally exhaled, “I need to speak to Felix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great liberty was taken with the Qunlat, so here is what the intent was.
> 
> Teth a! Fenriskost. Maraas shokra. Shanedan, kadanshok ebadim ebra sala: Listen! Peace Fenris. There is nothing to struggle against. I hear you and we will see to your lover.
> 
> Na’thek: As you wish.


	10. *The Different Meanings of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen returns from the Emprise, Iron Bull and Dorian laugh at the Commander's expense, and Harella has a drunken moment of truth.

Emprise du Lion~

The prisoners were prepared for travel, orders were given to Captain Mournier, and all provisions were packed.  A recruit found Cullen in the Keep’s courtyard and informed him that the squad returning to Skyhold was ready whenever he was.  Cullen nodded in acceptance of the message.  It was sooner than he would have wanted but, with the news that Fenris had arrived at Skyhold, looking for Hawke, he wanted to get back to be sure that Fenris didn’t tear the place apart stone by stone.  From his years at Kirkwall he knew that the elf could be extremely volatile, especially towards mages and Harella was the _exact_ type that he would want to crush beneath his boot before asking any questions. 

The thoughts of Harella, her actions and standing orders had occupied his mind since saving the wayward mages the day before.  In the courtyard of Suledin, he turned his gaze to the golden statue of Andraste that had defied the deterioration of time.  He knelt in prayer, his hands clasped tightly before his face.  His fingers intertwined as though they kept a water drop sized piece of hope from slipping away.  “Blessed Andraste guide my actions.  Keep me on the path of the Will of the Maker.  My hand will not falter under your care.”  Harella’s face drifted in his mind.  The vallaslin darkening her skin once more in a nightmare that he pushed aside, hoping to never see realized.  “Preserve us, shield us from betrayal.” 

 

Back at Skyhold, Cullen exchanged a few brief words with the Inquisitor before setting himself back on track with his duties.  "Ser Bramston, take the prisoners to the dungeons and see to it that one," Cullen pointed at the dark haired man in question as he seethed, "stays gagged.  I'll escort the mages to Grand-Enchanter Fiona."  The soldier saluted smartly then turned heel to take charge of the prisoners.

He felt fortunate to find Fenris with Cassandra in the training ring on his way to the mage tower.  He left the new charges with the first senior looking mage he saw then swiftly made his way back to the sparring warriors. 

Seeing the familiar face, Fenris ceased his practice to greet Cullen.  “Knight-Commander.”

“Only Commander.  How are you Fenris?” He made a conscious effort to not offer a handshake, keenly remembering that the lyrium markings made Fenris’ skin sensitive to touch that could randomly result in pain.

Fenris purposefully scanned his surroundings. “I think that I should be asking you that.  I would have thought after Kirkwall you would be done with mages, instead of burrowing yourself within their midst.”

Cullen had to chuckle at that, “You are aware that Hawke is a mage?”

“No, Hawke is Hawke.” 

Fenris was right, the Champion was singular. Cullen heard the unspoken meaning, ‘he is mine, and he is my all’.  Cullen felt a pang of jealousy at the pair’s relationship.  Typically, hard times drove people apart and yet, these two endured years of trials only to be drawn closer together.  To have such a friend was a gift, but to have such a lover was a blessing. 

“Did Leliana have any leads as to where he might be?”

“Yes.  However, she did not deem it necessary to tell me.”  Fenris looked pointedly at Cullen. 

Cullen nodded back.  “I will let you know what find out, I swear it.”

“I will be in your debt.”  His eyes roamed the courtyard.  “This place is not as Hawke described.  I had expected more fear, more oppression.”  He sniffed as though getting rid of an unpleasant smell.  With a shake of his head, “How do you bear it?”  He faced Cullen with full intensity.  “How do you work for an abomination such as the Inquisitor?  What she has done would curdle even a Magister’s stomach.”

Cullen caught his impulse before it escaped his throat.  He was about to defend her.  “She is a tool for the Inquisition.  That is all.  As you can see, we have found ways around the madness.”  The last words stung as soon as he uttered them.  He mentally chided himself for the unearned boast.  All that had changed was at her insistence.  _I should have defended her._    

Fenris leaned forward as if to delve deeper into the discussion, but then thought better of it.  “It does not matter.  I will be gone as soon as I have word.  Thank you for your help Commander.”

“You want to try a bit of a challenge?”  Bull strolled over, his customary maul exchanged for a two-handed practice sword.

“Shouldn’t you be in Seheron killing Tevinters?”  Fenris snapped at him.

“Nah, that gets old after a while.  Here, here is where the fun shit happens.”  Fenris returned his excited grin with a sneer before walking away.  Cullen watched Fenris disappear into the forage until Bull unexpectedly startled him with a nudge to his shoulder.  “Angry little thing isn't he?”

“He has suffered a great deal in his life.  I would assume that he’s eager to return to the small peace he and Hawke had in exile.”

“ _Hmpf._   Who hasn’t?  I’m noticing a theme of fucked up shit walking through those gates constantly.”  Bull stroked his chin thoughtfully as he kept his eye on the door Fenris went through.  “There’s more to him though.  He's afraid.  Although he’d kill you before ever admitting it.  And not in a clean quick way either”

“He’s worried for Hawke.  Can't say I blame him, he's been with Hawke for years.  If it weren’t for him, Fenris would probably be back with his old master.  Hawke didn’t tell me much, but what little he did…”  Cullen shifted his weight uneasily while he refocused his attention to the dirt at his feet.  He could not find it within him to keep on that topic.  Raising his head, he changed it swiftly.  “I can't imagine his difficulty with the loneliness.  I have to admit that I blame Hawke somewhat.  Fenris can take of himself, Hawke shouldn't have left him behind.  I’ve seen them both in battle, they make a great team.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at the mages.  Boss avoids him like an infectious rash that could jump out and bite.  As much as he hates mages, isn't his boyfriend one?”

“Yes.”

Bull’s mouth quirked upward in a grin that let the depravity of his thoughts infect Cullen.  “Yeah!  I bet he is!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Cullen pricked defensively.  _What is wrong with a mage?_   Then he remembered who he was talking with and felt that he actually didn’t want to know.

“We are naturally drawn to the forbidden.  It works out for him that his forbidden fruit wants him as well.  Yeah, I bet he’s a delicious fruit that _fills_ all of his desires.”

Cullen stepped back in his disgust.  “Maker!  Bull!  Is **everything** sex with you?”

Bull ticked his head slightly to one side.  “That’s not what I’m talking about.  He loves the man.  That sissy love crap is oddly fulfilling for some.  Gives them purpose, drives them, fills in the empty space that life digs out.  What are **you** talking about?”

Cullen had already begun to stalk off toward his office, chased by the uproarious laughter from Bull.  “Nothing!  Absolutely nothing!”

***

Night fell, which was of little relevance to Cullen.  Rylen had done well in Cullen’s absence, but some things weren’t done _his_ way.  He had convinced himself that it would only take a little extra time to re-do the few things that nagged at him.  Yet, here he was, hours later, barely halfway through the stack.  He pushed himself back in his chair and away from the desk.  A knock on his door prevented him from making the decision to either take a break or retire for the evening. 

“Enter.”  He stood, prepared to take on the unexpected occurrence which called for someone to seek him out this late at night.  He relaxed with surprise when Varric rounded the door.  “Varric?  Something the matter?”

“I don’t know Curly.  Maybe?  I heard that Dorian and the Inquisitor got in an argument this afternoon.  She’s been locked up in her room since.”  He held up a hand, anticipating Cullen’s reaction.  “I know, I know that she’s a big Inquisitor and all, but I’m worried.”

 _I’m worried she’ll leave._   Cullen assumed they had the same thought.  Maker forbid that Ashes leaves, or spirits away? and Harella returns.  “I understand completely.”  He ran a hand through his hair, debating what he should do. 

“I figured with you being an advisor and all, that you would be the better choice.  Leliana doesn’t seem to have warmed up to our new Inquisitor quite yet.”  That was an understatement.  Leliana still refused to entertain any idea that there had been a change in the Inquisitor.  Leliana continued to press forward with Harella’s orders, but Cullen could tell that she moved an unseen hand behind every order she executed. 

Cullen made his way around the massive desk.  “You’re right.  I suppose that our options are limited in that respect.”  Cullen rolled his shoulder to ease the discomfort of having sat for so long.  “I hope that I don’t have to talk to Dorian as well.”

“Ha!  Can’t imagine his face if you interrupted his beauty sleep!  If you do, you know, have to, then you have to tell me all about it.  That would be entertaining and far more colorful than anything I could ever pull out of my furry little ass!” 

They walked through the castle together until they parted ways in the great hall.  Cullen was impressed with the improvements that Mistress Chalet had made.  All of Skyhold was now clean and respectably presentable.  No trash crunched underfoot and servants hurried about their duties with pride instead of cringing in fear.  Yes, losing the new Inquisitor would be tragic. 

The door to the Inquisitor’s quarters was left ajar.  A sting of concern jabbed at Cullen that he ignored protocol and let himself in.  A hand on his sword, he scanned the room and found nothing.  A breezed drew him to the balcony where he found Harella staring over the edge, leaning forward enough that his heart skipped as it beat.  “Inquisitor?  Could you step back a little?”

Wearing full armor did not lend itself to stealth and had announced his presence long before his question had.  She pushed back away from the balustrade, pivoting to face him.  She offered nothing.  The silence urged Cullen to explain his intrusion.  “Varric said that you and Dorian had a fight.”

“How do you do it?”  She read the confusion in his silence.  “The world has crushed down on you before and you dug out of the rubble, stronger, braver.  Your ability to persevere.  Your strength is…unique.”

She slumped to the floor and began to play with her fingers.  “Before all of this, I was tasked with pulling out strands of possibilities, seeking out the results of how events unfold.  An observer of possibilities.  I watched the differences, how people impacted the future.  How events warped and shifted around them.”  She looked up at him.  “I never once thought how people making those decisions were affected.  In this body, I can feel the pain of others…or something akin to it.  Seeing people suffer, sharing their agony.  It’s unbearable.” 

She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her midsection.  Whether it was in comfort or becoming physically ill, Cullen wasn’t sure.  He was still in shock at seeing her like this.  She was vulnerable, concerned, empathetic.  Her bruised eye still refused to heal, another mark that distinguished herself as a different person.  She had called him brave.  Is he brave to risk believing her, or was he simply a fool, falling into the trap of contentment, blind to the consequences?  Would his trust be betrayed?  Could this be Meredith all over again?

“You must think me idiotic complaining like this when you have known worse.”

“I never told you about my past.”

“I know.  Believe me, I know.”

He wanted to be derisive, but suppressed it, knowing it was unworthy of him.  Acceptance creeped under his skin.  Should he allow it to burrow in? 

He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.  She did not acknowledge the gesture, her gaze a thousand yards off.  He was falling, could he catch himself?  “We…can sometimes be oblivious to what others endure when we are dealing with our own troubles.  Know that I, well, all of us are here for you.”

It felt awkward.  Here he was towering over the Inquisitor when only weeks ago he had prayed to the Maker that He would let her die.  Her stuttering inhalation alerted him that she was fighting tears.  She was trying, attempting to make things better and making some of the harder decisions was beating her down.

“But how do you hold on to your strength?”

“I have faith in the Maker.  I believe in the good that the Inquisition can do.  I know that what we fight for is right.”

“Your faith in the Maker is still unwavering even after what Harella has done?”

He silently snorted his disdain.  "She was an abomination, maybe even worse.”  Cullen looked out to the blackened horizon that held a sprinkling of stars.  Since he was a child he always thought of them as the eyes of the Maker, watching over His children.  He never noticed how brightly they shone over Skyhold until this moment.  He had not looked to the night sky in months.  “But the Maker brought us you."

He was a fool.  He had seen the glimmer of hope and he let himself fall towards it.  He knew it was foolish.  _I will not give up hope._

“Thank you for that.  I don’t think I could bear the trials of this world knowing you hated me.”  She pulled his cloak tighter around her and leaned her back against the railing.  “We found an answer to fixing the mark.”  She then went into detail about how Avernus and Solas wanted to use blood magic to get it working again.  Cullen voiced his concerns but it seemed that the two fade experts had thought of every possibility and she was being forced into this corner if they ever wanted the mark to work again.

“What is worse is that it has to be a sacrifice that has the darkspawn taint.  The rifts react to the taint, it has something to do with Corypheus being a darkspawn Magister and how he powered the orb.  Fiona left the components needed to make more Wardens in Denerim in King Alistair’s care.  Felix is the only Warden we have and he has already agreed to the ritual.  That is why Dorian and I were arguing.”

“Oh.”  He straightened his back as he remembered that he had never met back up with her since his arrival to inform her what had happened in the Emprise.  “I’m sorry, I got sidetracked today and neglected to tell you about our new prisoners.”

He scarcely finished his sentence identifying the prisoners before she bolted up, shedding his cloak and rushing out the door.   
  
***

Dorian lay in bed, his mind repeating the afternoon relentlessly.  He wasn’t in the least tired, but sitting didn’t lend itself well to sulking.  Harella had told Felix about the broken mark and the solution that Solas and Avernus had found. 

“Absolutely not!  Those fools have no idea what they are talking about!”  He hauled Felix and Harella back to the mage tower to confront the two in question.

They had known what they were talking about.

Once the details were explained, repeatedly, there was no other way around it.  They had exhausted every possible avenue.  A tainted blood sacrifice was needed and Felix was the only option.  Dorian sighed heavily but it did nothing to relieve his burden.

He played with a flicker of veil fire between his fingers.  _Dorian Pavus, the Maker’s personal whipping boy._

He wanted to be angry at Harella, an easy enough thing he had done in the past, but that was then.  Her genuine distress at even mentioning the prospect reflected how he felt, perhaps more so.  Felix of course, was damnably noble as ever, agreeing without further consideration. 

The following morning the Inquisitor will meet with Leliana to see if there were any Wardens in the area nearby.  Their propensity to lend themselves to a ‘greater cause’ had her believing that they might take Felix’s place, or make them.  Either way was fine with Dorian.  But, that was all dependent on them being near enough to capture.  Time was becoming a precious commodity that now dictated much of what the Inquisition did and when they did it.  There simply wasn’t the luxury to spend weeks hunting down Wardens who were elusive to begin with. 

A loud banging echoed in his room.  Dorian twisted his head toward the door, a fireball primed in his hands when it slung open. 

He was in complete shock to see Harella beaming down at him. “Fasta Vass woman!  What is the matter with you?!”  

She leapt onto the bed, straddling his waist, her words heavy with alcohol.  "Felix is safe!  He's safe Dorian!"

He bolted upright and grappled her shoulders tight.  His eyes bored into hers, challenging her to mock his pain with a fabrication.  "What did you say?  How?!"

Her drunken elation gave her the impulse to wrap him sloppily in her arms.  Her ability to speak coherently was losing a battle with her body which wanted to sleep off whatever foul liquid she had found.  "The Commander.  He captured some Wardens.  In the Emprise.  He's safe, Dorian.  He’s safe."

Her words finally sank in with the explanation.   _Well, that's the end of that._

"Excellent, now kindly extricate yourself from my quarters this instant!!"  His voice gained momentum and volume with each word.  He was shouting by the end of the sentence.    
All of her strength had apparently been used to rush him the good news.  However, that meant he was forced to push her off of him and get out of bed to see her out.  Standing up, he dragged her to her feet and assisted in guiding her to the door.  She was now fully spent and unable to do anything on her own. 

Another figure blocked his open doorway, his rapid breathing and wide eyes let Dorian know that Cullen had tried chasing her down.  

"Oh sweet Maker!"  It was only at Cullen's raised hand and averted eyes that Dorian remembered that he went to bed naked.  Although he held up the Inquisitor at his side, she did nothing to hide his, well, anything.  Cullen's reaction was positively delightful.  "Oh, I see.  This was an elaborate ploy for you discover for yourself that I am in fact dashing regardless of my attire.  Really, you could have just asked.”

Dorian was well aware that Cullen was not interested in men, but his delicate Chantry upbringing made his reactions to any sexual innuendo all the more delectable to tease out of him.  He and Bull had even placed bets on what phases would garner the best reaction. 

“I…I was just, she ran…I wasn’t sure, Blessed Andraste!  I’m so sorry!”

Dorian finished his trek across the room and promptly shoved the Inquisitor into Cullen.  Since he was not looking, Cullen scarcely had time to react and needed to dip down to keep her from crashing to the ground.  "Take this, else I'll just leave her in the hall."

This quip received an admonishing look from Cullen which was returned with a roll of Dorian's eyes.  "I wouldn't really, but you're so conveniently _you_ , that I know you'll see her safely to her bed."   Dorian took advantage of the Commander’s discomfiture by raising his arm above his head while he leaned against the doorframe to best elongate his graceful figure.  "That is, unless you see something you like..."

 _Best decision in the history of the Imperium!_   Cullen brushed off his comment as he hastily scooped up the Inquisitor was entirely worth the brisk chill Dorian endured.  He laughed to himself as he made his way back to bed, _these southerners and their overly protected modesty._   Felix is safe and now he has a new topic with which to torment Cullen.  A rather decent end to a day that started out so dreadful.

_Things might actually work out._

***

Her sprint through Skyhold had caused her body to absorb every bit of the alcohol she had drunk earlier.  Being so close, Cullen could finally smell it and even recognized the limpness in her limbs from the times he had dragged fellow Templars out of taverns. 

_Inebriation brings out our truest selves_

_When have you ever met a drunk who was nothing but brutally honest about what they thought of you, the world or themselves?_

Dorian’s words managed to bark loudly enough in his mind to block out the image of the naked man.  Cullen felt a shift in her weight.  She could no longer hold her own head up and it had fallen down to her shoulder.  He debated with himself the entire journey back to her quarters.  Even after placing her in bed and looking down at her eyes fighting sleep, he was still unsure.  Only when it seemed that she was slipping away did he make a decision.

He knelt beside her and asked the question the burning question she had refused to answer.  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Her breathing was slow and heavy.  It was a struggle for her to stay awake.  Her eyes weren’t focused.  She was probably not certain he was truly there.  “You did this to me, you pried me from my purpose.  I never knew pain until I found you.  I never knew desire until there was you.”

"Desire?"  The word felt strange on his lips but oddly welcome.  How often had he desired something more?  _Neria._

She slid a hand over his that he had not even noticed was resting on the bed.  "I desired that your pain would stop.  I desired a better life for you.   I was impassive to all else, all of the people of this realm, but you.  You, I couldn't turn away from.  Solas cried out for help with his magic and I answered.  Because of you.” 

This was…unexpected, unbelievable, and entirely too much to take in.  Her eyes were slipping again.  Impulsively, he reached for her and shook her gently to keep her attention.  “Why?  Why me?”

“Your strength.  Your endurance.  You were tortured by demons for weeks and yet here you are with me, technically a possessed mage and you are giving me a chance.  The world shattered before your eyes at Kirkwall, you know war and death and still you came here to set things right.  You. Are. Amazing.”  She smiled warmly, then curled into a more comfortable sleeping position. 

Panic, pride, astonishment all coursed through him, colliding in ways that left his head spinning.  He stood quickly, hoping that distance would keep his damnable mouth shut.  He didn’t want to know this.  It was too private, it was too nerve wracking for him to absorb.  No, he shouldn’t have done this, why did he do this!?

“Cullen.”  He stilled instantly.  It was the first time she had _ever_ used his name.  Even the old Inquisitor stubbornly referred to him only as ‘Templar’.  “It also helps that you’re absolutely gorgeous.” 

In his rush to break away from the brutal honesty, his cloak was left on the balcony. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to fit a lot in here but it was getting too long. Next up is the interrogation of the Wardens and the discovery of where Hawke has been. 
> 
> Thank you for glossing over minor typing/spelling errors. I swear I read through these!


	11. The Beginnings of World War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation of the Wardens takes a bad turn.

When Cullen walked through the rotunda, Solas was up on the scaffolding working on his fresco. 

“We need to talk.  Now.”  Cullen’s heart was racing and traces of sweat were beginning to form.  The lyrium.  He had forgotten his draught this evening.  Now that he was noticing his symptoms, they intensified.  A nervous twitch made his hand shake, a repressive heat swept through him, making his sweat feel like ice on his skin.  Solas was unresponsive to the Commander’s agitation as he carefully began to wash out his brushes before climbing down.  Cullen couldn’t wait, not here.  “I’ll be in my office.”

He left without waiting for a response.  Solas would come.  In the meantime, he paced the length of the tower room while he worked the buckles of his armor.  He placed the pieces of metal on the ground wherever he stood when it came loose.  He was down to his undershirt and trousers by the time Solas let himself into the tower.  If he was concerned about the disarray or Cullen’s appearance, he gave no outward indication of it. 

“What is she?”  

Solas thought on it a moment.  "As best as I can describe it and in the most simplest of terms – fate.”

Not helpful.  “Can she turn into an abomination?”

“As I understand it, no.  She is not from the fade.  She is no true spirit as we know them.  However, there is no precedent for this situation.  No other has crossed over as she has.”

 _Solas cried out for help with his magic and I answered.  Because of you._   The words haunted him.  He was nothing.  A tool, someone who filled a need, someone with no expectations beyond his usefulness to others. 

He swallowed at a dryness that had spread in his throat.  “Can she leave?  If she chose to, could she return beyond the Void?”

“As I understand it, no.  Not of her own will.  It is one of the points of contention between us.”  
  
“She’s mad at you?”

Solas answered matter-of-factly, clasping his hands behind his back.  "Of course, and with good reason, but she is not irrational.  She understands why I acted as I did and accepts that which the Inquisition has asked of her.  It does not necessarily hold that she should be happy with my methods."

“What happened to Harella?  The old one, I mean.”

“I do not know.  The spirits that gave me the spell to summon our Halani, were not specific on that point.  I am investigating the matter, have no concern on that.”  Solas’ shifted from thoughtful contemplation to more inquisitive.  “Commander, may I ask why you have engaged in this line of questioning?”

“I don’t think I can survive this.”  Solas betrayed no reaction, keeping his neutral eyes following Cullen as he rubbed at the back of his neck, stretching it upward.  When Cullen brought his head back down, he caught an inquisitive stare from Solas.  "I believe her."

“As you should.”

“It’s not that simple.”  Cullen stopped himself before he let his anger rush from him.  He growled to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers stretched to rub at his eyes.  “If Harella comes back…I can’t go through that again.  The Inquisition can’t.  We will lose everything, any trust we have gained will be irrevocably destroyed.  Solas, we can’t let that happen.  You must find her.”

“I understand.  Have faith commander.  I am doing all that I can to track her down."  Solas exited the tower without a dismissal. 

The conversation did help ease his worries on the one front, yet he was still apprehensive.  The thought of a spirit, regardless of her intent, giving him undivided attention was unnerving.  The last time he was under such attention he was caged in Kinloch Hold.  He was the plaything of a Despair demon.  Although he had been confined to one room, the demon manifested the images of what had happened throughout the tower to play out before him.  He can remember each ruptured body, every frozen expression of torture.  Screams of desperation pierced through his mind like barbed wire, catching and tearing at his sanity.  The demon had always been there always watching him trying to feed off of him like it had done the Templars.  It feasted on them as their hope was slowly extinguished. 

He had stayed strong, but at a great cost. 

Cullen made his way up to the loft that served as his room where he kept his store of lyrium.  Retrieving the box, he sat on the bed and pulled out a vial.  His eyes lost focus while his mind wondered deep in his thoughts.  Originally he tried to quit the blue opiate because of the nightmares, the reminder of Meredeth’s betrayal. 

Now, all he saw was his failure to curb Harella’s insanity. 

He hid the vial from view by clamping his fingers around it completely.  _I never knew desire until there was you._   _I desired that your pain would stop.  I desired a better life for you._

Cullen placed the vial on his night table then locked the box shut, tossing it haphazardly across the room.  He was unsure how long he stared at the vial.  He did not even know when he had laid his head down on the pillow, keeping his gaze locked. 

_Your strength.  Your endurance…you are giving me a chance._

“My Maker, know my heart   
Take from me a life of sorrow   
Lift me from a world of pain   
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.” 

His new conviction allowed sleep to seep into his muscles, easing the tension.  His mind began to drift.  “I want a better life.  I shall be worthy.”  The words were murmured but they resonated a renewed purpose within Cullen’s body.  He had called out to the Maker, but his thoughts were on a woman whose admiration he did not deserve. 

***

Early the following morning, Cullen waited outside the entrance to the dungeons.  Fresh pain woke him before sunrise and he had been awake since.  He found a strange comfort in the familiar symptoms.  He knew how long they would last, how they would change in the coming weeks.  _I shall endure._

Leliana, Cassandra and the Inquisitor approached as a group.  Cassandra and the Inquisitor laughed at something from their conversation.  Cullen greeted the group with a half bow then gestured that they follow him down below.  The Heads of the Inquisition assumed a sterner disposition by the time they reached their destination.  The winding walk ended in an open room ringed with cells.  Five wardens shared one cell while one was separated into his own and was restrained to the wall. 

“Lieutenant.”  Cullen called out the head guard who saluted smartly in response.  “Open his cell and remove the gag.” 

“We found these Wardens forcefully conscripting rebel mages in the wilds of the Emprise.”  The entourage followed Cullen into the cell.  “Warden Blackwall is the commanding officer.  When the mages refused, Blackwall gave orders to have them binded using the ritual Dorian observed outside Val Chevin. 

“I recruit, that’s what I do.”  Blackwall held firm in his resolve.  He convinced himself he was in the right and was not backing down.  “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.   
Foul and corrupt are they  
Who have taken His gift  
And turned it against His children.”

The Inquisitor nearly spit her disgust at him.  “How dare you invoke the chant against the Inquisition?  We apply justice to protect both mages and the common people impartially.  You have perverted the Maker’s gift by sacrificing them to demons.  You forced them to bend to your will.  It is you who has turned His gift against His children.”

“You are nothing but heretics who have broken from the Chantry to follow the oppressive whims of a self-serving tyrant!”  He sneered as his hatred practically foamed in his mouth.  “You know nothing of sacrifice, nothing of dedication to duty you fucking traitors!”

Cullen glowered at the madman while he recited the vows he took upon entering the Order. “ _Honor the gift of the Maker by swearing to protect all mages from themselves.  Honor your charges by defending them from the world who fears magic.  Just and righteous are those who dedicate themselves to the mantle of guardian of the Maker’s Work_.  I may have left the Order but I have not forgotten my vow of service.  You would do well to remember yours.  The Inquisitor is no tyrant.  The breach is the immediate threat, not some Blight that may be in centuries to come.  She will see it closed and the Inquisition will not tolerate opportunists abusing the people of these lands.” 

Leliana broke from the line as she spoke.  "More to the immediate point, Hawke followed you when you and Stroud left Skyhold.  Where is he?”

Blackwall laughed mirthlessly.  “You think I'm going to tell you?”

She stared unblinking at him.  “Then you do know where he is.  Lieutenant, pick a Warden from the other cell for interrogation.”

Blackwall tested his chains, watching the Spymaster like a hawk.  “What game do you think you are playing at?”

Leliana ignored his comments.  She followed the lieutenant who dragged one of the Wardens into an adjoining room.  The door was left open but nothing could be seen.  Soon the walls echoed the sound of flesh being struck and disturbed screams.   
“Void take you!  They don't know anything.”  Blackwall was pulling hard enough that his wrists were beginning to bleed. 

Cullen stepped forward to loom over the prisoner.  "Then what do you know?"

"Make her stop!"

"You're not the one to make demands here."

Blackwall rushed his words, his face pleading for the other Warden.  "A Magister from Tevinter wanted him.  Erimmond is her contact.  After we finished recruiting the Emprise, we were supposed to  bring him to meet her  in Val Royeaux, a guest of Grand Duke Gaspard."

The Inquisitor raised a hand to the guard stationed outside the door then pressed Blackwall for more information.  "What do they want with the Champion?"

"You handed Hawke over to blood thirsty Magisters?!"  Fenris walked out of shadows like a phantom through a solid wall.  At first Cullen was irritated that Fenris hadn't given him the chance to finish the interrogation.  How he even knew they were down here was a mystery.  When he saw Fenris advancing with deadly purpose, Cullen almost realized too late that his anger was not directed at Blackwall.  Fenris reached out with a glowing hand, vengeance hot in his eyes.  Memories of the battle in Kirkwall reminded Cullen how Fenris could phase through someone in order to crush internal organs in a swift death. 

" **Don't!** "  Cullen lunged between Fenris and the Inquisitor.  The last thing he remembered was the look of surprised regret on the eleven warriors face as Fenris pulled his hand back.

***

Harella watched Cullen fall to the floor.  She slammed Fenris with her staff since the wards prevented her using magic.  The blow knocked him back against a wall where he slid to the floor, limp from the guilt of his error.

Cassandra rushed to Cullen, deftly removing his breastplate to check for signs of life.  Leliana ran out of the other room and paused at the scene, looking from one person to the next.

"Fenris attacked Cullen."  Cassandra answered without slowing her actions.

Leliana rushed to Fenris, jerking him to his feet.  It was only when she produced her dagger that Fenris snapped out of his trance and kicked her in the chest to create space between them.   

Harella jumped into the void he created.  "Enough!"  She held up her hands, her glaring eyes challenging either of them to ignore her.  "Seeker, is he alright?"

"Yes, Inquisitor.  Everything seems alright but he still needs to see a healer."

"Seeker, get him to the healers annex.  Lieutenant, escort Fenris back to his quarters, I'll have the Chargers ensure that he stays there until the Commander can decide what to do with him."  The lieutenant was hesitant but when Fenris fell into pace beside the soldier in a show of submission to the Inquisitor’s judgment, the lieutenant’s confidence raised marginally.

Harella started to leave but noticed the body of the first Warden lying on the floor in the other room.  Disbelief had her whispering to Leliana, avoiding the scrutiny of the remaining prisoners.  "Sister Nightingale, what happened?"

"He tried to escape.  I did what I had to for your safety in the wake of the chaos."

Harella nodded in a weak agreement.  "Thank you."  She finally tore her eyes from the lifeless heap.  "I'll go find the Bull.  Finish with the interrogation then send for me when you bring him to the Mage tower."

With everyone set to task, Harella found the Iron Bull in the training ring with his crew.  His normally cheerful welcome turned grimly serious when he assessed her mood.  He was all business.  "What's going on Boss?"

"Fenris attacked the Commander.  The Seeker is taking him to the healers right now."

"You've got to be shitting me!"

"He didn't mean to, he was trying to get at me and the Commander got in the way."

"Hmm, I was wondering how long it would take him to warm up to you."  The Bull snorted with skepticism.  "What are you going to do with Fenris?"

"For now I want you and your boys to stand guard.  I know they won’t be as intimidated by him as the regular soldiers." It was phrased as a statement but she looked to him hopefully to make it a request. 

"Krem!  The glowing elf threw a tantrum and we get to babysit."

"Aw chief, and here I never thought I'd never get to coddle a baby capable of murdering me.  You're so thoughtful."

"Don't go soft on me Krem.  You don’t get to keep him.  Get your ass moving." Harella tapped Bull on the elbow, tilting her head to one side.  The chargers were already headed for the guest wing, but Bull and Harella walked further away from the ring, back behind the tavern.

"Do you do any reporting for Leliana?"

"Sometimes.  Nothing recently though."  She could almost feel his prying eye raking over her, looking for more information from her body language.

Harella folded her arms a little defensively against her chest.  "I would prefer to know of anything she asks you to do.  She's acting out of character lately."

"What do you mean?"

"During the interrogation, she was supposed to torture a Warden a bit to convince the others to talk.  She killed him during the scuffle when Fenris attacked claiming he tried to escape."

"A bit aggressive, but not too strange."  Bull shrugged nonchalantly, but his tone said he didn’t agree with the decision.

"I saw his body.  He was still tied to the chair.  He was no more a threat than a fennec on a leash."

Bull’s eye widened.  "That, is interesting.  I see what you mean boss.  My advice, don't tell anyone else.  She'll notice the change, easier for me to work alone on this."  She smiled, clapping him on his arm in thanks then turned to leave.

"Boss."  She stopped to glance over her shoulder.  "You shouldn't trust me blindly either."

She laughed, picking up her stride again. "That's why I do."

On her way back to the dungeons she crossed paths with Leliana who led a pack of guards dragging Blackwall through the courtyard.  He was gagged once more, his legs kicking in ineffectively in protest.

"I'm guessing you told him what comes next?"

"He has not precisely volunteered, no."

Harella joined their group as they made for the Mage tower.  Solas and Avernus were waiting for them.  Solas regarded Blackwall with open hostility while Avernus gave him no more attention than he would a cow brought to the slaughter.  Before going to retrieve Blackwall early that morning, Harella had informed the two mages that the ceremony would be conducted that day, as well as why the Wardens were arrested.  It was the first time that she had seen Solas unable to control his emotions.  He had been furious to learn that the Wardens had attempted to raise a demon army for the purpose of hunting down and killing the old gods. 

Blackwall was placed over a glyph that held him in place and all of the guards were dismissed.  Harella stood as close to him as the glyph would allow.  “I know why you joined the Wardens Thom.  I know you sought redemption.  There is no blight which would give you cause to use the right of conscription, much less go so far as to bind a spirit to an unwilling mage.  Corypheus is the darkspawn horror you should be worried about.  Your flawed logic has wrought this.”  She held up her inert hand.  “How will the Wardenss seal the rifts?  What good is your sacrifice if there is no one left to remember?  No one left to live the life you could never have, that you never deserved."

His struggles stopped.  “You have disgraced the name Rainier in Orlais and vilified Blackwall’s when you accepted the Venatori into the ranks of the Wardens.  This is your one chance to at least salvage Blackwall's legacy.  Have him die for the good of the Inquisition.”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.  It was done.  He no longer offered any struggle when the ritual commenced.  As necessary as it was to have the mark working again, she couldn’t in good faith let him die believing the lie that Corypheus had fed them, no matter how willingly he had feasted on it.  No one would mourn the loss of Rainier, the traitor that he was before stealing Blackwall’s name. 

“May Blackwall be welcomed at the Maker’s side.  May Thom Rainier rot in the Void for his sins.”  Once the ritual was complete and she felt the power pulsing in her palm once more, she left to check on the Commander.

***

Uncomfortable. It was the only word that rolled in his mind.  He gathered that he was in a room, on a cot, the room a comfortable temperature given the arctic chill that constantly blew through the fortress.  His muscles had rested too long, they ached.  His eyes burned behind their lids that he held shut to keep out the light at bay.  He knew it would slice through his pupils to cut sharply into his headache.  He drew a deep breath then instantly regretted it.   He could count each of his ribs as they protested at the movement.  He focused on taking slow, steady inhalations to test the right amount of air his body could handle.

“Commander?”  Panic seized him, he instantly shot up.  He was already wracked with pain when his mind caught up to the present to remind him that the Inquisitor was a different person.  She was not here to harass him, she would not abuse him.  He reflexively squeezed his eyes shut as he eased himself back on the cot, sucking in a shallow breath to keep from adding to his misery.

“Commander!  What were you thinking?”  She came to his side and helped him to lie back down, decreasing the burden to his arms. 

“I was a bit disoriented, that is all.  I did not expect to wake up here.”  He failed to hide his groans with the effort it took to talk and move at the same time.

“That’s not what I meant.  In the cells, you knew what Fenris was going to do.”

“The inquisition acts when no one dares.  Orlais is torn apart by civil war, the Templars and Wardens battle each other, and Ferelden is flooded with refugees that strain their resources.  Thedas needs you.  I cannot allow any harm to come to you.”

“Thedas needs us.  Do not forget that the Inquisition is many people working for a common goal.”  She placed her left hand on the center of his chest.  Without his armor, he could feel her warmth and then the spark of magic.  The mark was connected to the Fade once more.  “Never think of yourself as expendable.” 

He saw an urgency in her eyes, a pleading that was held back.  He instinctively smiled at her genuine concern and at the realization that he no longer thought of her as Harella any longer.  The beast was gone and Solas would ensure that she never returned.  Cullen lifted a hand to cover hers which still rested on his chest, a chuckle bubbled up.  Since joining this cause, he had never felt so fortunate.  “Is that an order?”

He sensed her entire body ease from the touch of her hand.  Her voice became more teasing, lowered for his ears only.  “If it needs to be.” 

Cullen felt a flush rise in his cheeks.  He redirected the conversation.  “What happened to Fenris?”

“You would have thought he had accidently killed a puppy.  I have the Chargers keeping him in his quarters.  I am leaving his punishment up to you.”

“You didn’t put him in the cells?”

“Maker, no!  Everyone who was down there nearly shit themselves when they saw him reach into your body.  I thought it best to keep him separated.”

Cullen sighed heavily, thankful it didn’t agitate his bruised ribs.  “I’ll need to talk to him, find out if Hawke had a bad run-in with any other Magisters I don’t know about.  We’ll need to schedule a War Council to plan our next move.  We still have the issue of Josephine syphoning our funds and the two warring cousins in Orlais.  If Gaspard is looking to have an alliance with Tevinter and Celene is pairing with Antiva, things could turn horrible quickly.”

“But not tonight.  It’s late, and you’re still recovering.”  Her lip curled up on one side in a playful smile.  “Can I trust you to follow the healer’s orders and stay in bed?”

“I am rather stubborn.  You may have to stay and enforce that order of yours.  Besides, shouldn’t we take some time to get to know one another?”  It was forward of him.  His breath stilled in his lungs.  She was pleasant, soothing to talk to.  He wanted to hold onto this moment.  He wanted to cement his belief that the world was capable of being saved, that things could actually turn out for the better.  He wanted to believe that there was someone who cared about Cullen, not just the Commander of the Inquisition forces.

Her face was alight with the knowledge that he finally believed her.  Her expression was the same as the feeling he felt - relief.  Keeping her hand under his, she reached out to pull a chair over.  “If you wish.” 

He squeezed her hand lightly.  “I do.”

***

Leliana waited for Solas and the Inquisitor to leave, telling them she was going to help Avernus with the clean-up.  She turned to the old man, his expression was expectant.  He knew she wanted something from him. 

“I have a new task for you.”  She handed him a slip of paper, outlining what she wanted.

He frowned a bit, indicating that the task would be difficult.  “I would need more test subjects.  More than what is in the cells currently.”

“Consider it done.  I will get you any other resources you need, but I will be the only one you speak to about your progress.”

Avernus nodded his head indifferently.  “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Capri totally called it in the beginning. I felt very betrayed by Blackwall's lie so when I suggested the idea of killing him off, my husband supported it wholeheartedly.
> 
> Up next: “This is the stupidest plan that I have ever heard.” - Seeker Cassandra


	12. A Strike to Echo Through the Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A miniature campaign is plotted and the Inquisition takes the first steps to becoming a true power in Thedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, c'mon. What's in the box?

The War Room was crowded.  The table was ringed with the key members of the Inquisitor’s inner circle.  Everyone had a part to play in this massive operation. 

“This is the stupidest plan that I have ever heard.”  Cassandra grunted her disapproval, although all aspects had already been decided.

The Inquisitor’s smug grin spread at the unintentional compliment.  “Which is exactly why it is going to work.”

“We are out of options.  I have already made one attempt with my people and they did not return.  A second attempt would end much sooner and far more disastrously as they would be able to anticipate it.”  Leliana kept her eyes on the map brought in specifically for this meeting.  She studyed the iron markers that indicated where everyone would be.

“I don’t know, I’ve always liked the idea of bossing Dorian around.  It will be even more fun if he can’t talk back.”  Felix’s comment earned him a stiff shove from the Magister. 

“I must point out that there is a great deal of risk associated with this plan.  One would think that it sprang from the pages of one of Varric’s overly embellished novels.”

“Chuckles!  You’re a fan?  Ha!”  Varric gave Solas a conspiratorial wink.  “How about I promise you a signed copy of our adventures if we survive this?”

Solas rolled his eyes, refusing to respond the dwarf.  “Inquisitor, are you certain that this is worth the effort?” 

“Yes.  If we’re able to make this happen, we will finally empower the Inquisition with enough political force to no longer be ignored by any nation.  If we are to build ourselves into a force that will face down a darkspawn Magister, then this will set the gears in motion.”

“I like having a plan.”  Bull leaned back against the wall, his easy manner left him open to any manner of plan that involved him bashing skulls in.  “Plans are a great way to know how things _won’t_ turn out.  As nug-shit crazy as this is, I’m hoping it falls through and we end up riding Griffons out of Val Royeaux.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence Bull.”

He tilted his head upward in acknowledgement.  “Any time Boss.”

Cullen raised his voice, using the one reserved for the training ring to capture everyone’s full attention.  “Alright!  If we are done with the pointless arguments?”  He paused to allow for anyone with something of substance to add, to do so.  Silence.  “To work.  Maker watch over us.”

****

**Valmont Estate, South of Val Royeaux**

“Presenting Magister Felix Gereon of house Alexius, lately of Qunaris of the Tevinter Imperium.”

The smartly dressed Magister walked into the main hall flanked by two matching guards in full armor and trailed by two elven servants.  His entrance captured the attention of the many nobles that were in attendance at Empress Celene’s salon.  A sea of masks watched him stride to the dias to greet the Empress.  The strength in his shoulders announced that he was no stranger to the game and even challenged others to test his capability.  He executed a respectable bow to his host. 

“My greatest apologies Empress, for imposing on you so suddenly without prior notice.”  He stood, straightening his spine with an air of authority.  His eyes wondered the room, sizing up those in attendance and deeming them beneath his notice, he scoffed audibly enough that those nearby would know his displeasure. 

His full attention returned to the Empress.  “I was unfortunate as to travel all the way to these beautiful lands to conduct business with a new, promising contact.  Alas, the merchant was unable to keep his end of the bargain and seeing how close we were to Val Royeaux, I could not pass on the opportunity to introduce myself.”

‘ _My black market deal fell through. I know that Orlais is going through troublesome times and I an eager to take advantage of an opportunity.’_

Empress Celene returned his bow with a slight curtsy that befit her station in response to a foreign dignitary prior to the formation of any formal acquaintance.  “We are pleased as always to receive such an esteemed guest, even when lacking formal notice.  I would welcome you to experience Val Royeaux, but I must admit it is not at its finest this time of year.  Perhaps you should have come in the spring.” 

_‘I had no hint that there would be a messenger from Tevinter, however this is not unwelcome.  The current climate is hostile in Orlais and we would welcome any allies that will see to a permanent change in political climate.’_

“I must admit that I find the entire country of Orlais quite charming.  If it is not too imposing, I would seek a private audience to better learn which areas are the best hunting grounds.”  He gestured with a hand toward his guards.  “My Templars tend to tire of their regular duties and I would like to put them to better use.”

_‘I am open to a deal.  I know that your lands suffer from the insurgency of Venatori mages and I have the means to get rid of them.’_

“I will consider your request.”  She motioned to a servant who appeared instantly at the slightest movement of her hand.  “Please see that Magister Alexius is appointed quarters for the evening.”

_Settle in, I will send for you when I am able to speak freely._

Felix bent into a deep bow, relaying gratitude for her hospitality.  The Magister and his entourage followed the Empress’ servant deep into sprawling wings of her palace that were reserved for honored guests and excluded public admittance.  The servant opened double doors to a room that was large and luxurious.  The empress was serious about the negotiations.  Felix spoke to his elves in Tevene and they jumped into action, rearranging the room and unpacking trunks that had already been brought to the room.  Felix walked idly to a chair near the fire and gracefully slouched into it, his body clearly road weary.  

Once of the guards looked down on the Empress’ servant.  “The Master has no need of you.  He prefers his own servants.”

With intimidation deftly applied, the curious servant hastily made his retreat, closing the massive doors behind him.  The guard removed his helm to press an ear to the door ensuring that the footfalls faded down the hallway.

The second guard cast a spell that extended beyond the room to ensure there were no eavesdroppers that would ruin their plans.  The two guards looked at each other and agreed it was safe.

Felix rose from his chair, his face gleeful at how well things were turning out so far.  “Alright, we got that out of the way.  Now, on to the tricky part.  We only have four hours to make this happen.  You will figure out possible escape routes.”  The two guards gave curt nods.  “You two will find out if the living quarters are occupied and if so, go ahead with the aquisition.”  The two servants accepted the task silently.  “I’ll make sure everyone stays distracted.  Let’s hope that everything goes swimmingly.”

**Chalons Estate, East of Val Royeaux**

“I must admit I am not at all surprised to receive a person of your…colored background.”  Gaspard agreed to meet with the mercenary captain when he heard this group had defected from the Inquisition.  Insider knowledge was always useful regardless of the source, but this one seemed astute for being a brutish Qunari captain.

“The boys and I heard about the battle in Lydes and figured we could get some payback on that bitch if we found some employment with the only noble ballsy enough to take on the Inquisition and win!  Hot damn!  Can’t tell you happy the boys were to hear about that!”  The hulking Qunari made himself comfortable by settling into one of the larger chairs then snatching up a bottle from the nearby table.  Gaspard was certain he hadn’t even read the label before drinking half of it, forgoing a glass. 

“I understand that the Inquisition is falling apart.  After Lydes, it wouldn’t take much of an imagination to chase them into the rathole they call Skyhold.”  Gaspard walked back from the captain and the few crew members the Qunari did bring.  Two elves and a dwarf made the type of eclectic composition that was normal for mercenaries.  The one elf had deep, piercing eyes that seemed to eat at a man’s soul like acid.  “Once I have crushed the most feared mage in Thedas there will be no question as to who should rightly rule Orlais.”

“And we can help you reach that goal.”  The Qunari raised a finger, emphasizing his point.  “We are expensive, but we’re worth it.”  The captain’s arrogance would have anyone believing his assertion. 

Gaspard held up a sniffer of whiskey, saluting the captain.  “I believe you on that.  However, I don’t believe that you came here seeking employment.”  Gaspard basked in the spike of tension that shot through the room like lightning.  Nothing was more pleasing than humiliating an arrogant bastard.

With perfect timing, a set of doors opened to admit a large group of soldiers, headed by a man and a woman in black, expensive Tevinter clothing.  “As you can see, I already have all the assistance I need from Tevinter.”

Recognizing the woman, the dwarf’s face crunched at a painful memory.  “Oh, shit.”

           

**Valmont Estate**

Josephine Montilyet had become tired of the tediousness of the evening’s entertainment and decided to retire early for once.  She entered her apartments within the palace to find two unfamiliar elves.  She stared only briefly before the nightmares came rushing back to her.

“Harella?”

“Get her!”  The two elves chased the ambassador out into the hallway.  Josephine sprinted for the nearest guard station, shouting as she went.

The Inquisition elves must have rightly assumed her destination as they had ceased chasing the ambassador.  Masked guards hurried around the corner.  She pointed franticly back over her shoulder.  “That way!  It’s the Inquisitor!”  The guards hesitated, mentally debating taking on a well-known blood mage.

Josephine immediately berated them.  “Don’t stand there!  Get after them!  I have to warn the Empress.” 

Her lungs burned at the effort to reach Celene before anyone from the Inquisition did.  She alerted every guardsmen she saw along the way, directing their efforts to where she had last seen the Inquisitor.  As she raced down what seemed an endless corridor, movement outside the window caught her eye.  She nearly stumbled when she stopped to look out the glassless window.  The two Tevinter guards from earlier in the evening were carting a large trunk out of the palace grounds and over the wall.  She called out again for guards to descend on the location and was rewarded with a fireball blast that erupted next to her.  She ducked to safety behind the wall.  She waited only a few moments before chancing another look down below.  She could see the Tevinter guards running on the other side of the wall, trunk still in tow.  Celene’s soldiers began to file into the area in answer to her shouting.  “It’s the Tevinters!  They’re headed north into the city!”

 

**Chalons Estate**

“Leto.  I knew you would come looking for this.”  She reached over to Hawke, dragging an open hand down his chest.  Hawke was unresponsive, staring into the room without any purpose.  It was even questionable if he followed the conversation happening around him. 

"Never call me that!"  Fenris stepped forward, his heart torn to see Hawke subjugated in such a manner.  He was a shell of a person who didn't acknowledge Fenris in the slightest.  "What have you done to him?"

"I've never had a slave if my own.  I have to admit it was fun breaking him.”  She grinned up at the rugged man who was now her thrall.  “He was so loyal, refused to tell me where to find you.  Now he is loyal to me."

Fenris didn’t raise his voice but, his tone filled each word with deadly intent.  "Let him go and I promise to kill you quickly."

"Fenris, what the fuck is going on?"  Bull was on his feet, muscles poised, ready to act, to strike. 

Varric was still in disbelief that Varania was in Orlais and even more so to see that she was in a position of marginal power.  "Varania is his sister.  She was Denarius' apprentice and helped that shit-stick of a Magister hunt him down in Kirkwall.  Hawke made sure Denarius didn’t survive the encounter."

“Was.  I have no family other than Hawke.”  Fenris was quick to ensure that he was not associated with the abomination he saw before him.

"No longer apprentice, his heir.  Once I have you and unlock the secret of your markings I will be able to assume his seat among the Magisters."

"Stop lunatic Vint.  Spare Hawke.”  The Iron Bull unholstered his maul, swinging it around to his front.  “Can we start killing now?"

Varania sneered before turning to Hawke, her order rippled back to the waiting soldiers.  "Kill them all.  I don't need him alive.”

Fenris rushed forward, his sword drawn, his posture defensive to keep his companions _away_ from Hawke.  Fenris stared down his lover, he was a coiled spring, held back by fear and grief.  His wide eyes scrambling to find the man he knew.  “Hawke, don’t do this.  I need you.”

The elf’s words could not pierce through the binding spell.  With efficient speed, Hawke summoned a Pride demon

“Outside damn you!  Outside!”  Gaspard welcomed the entertainment but not at the cost of his lavish furnishings or his manor.

Hawke’s eyes flashed with light, the demon responded by rushing the Inquisition members, throwing them from the mansion out into the gardens.  Glass scattered everywhere.  The battle raged as the soldiers poured into the open space, outnumbering and circling their targets. 

**Back alleys of Val Royeaux**

Felix’s team had not made it far off of the Empress’ estate with their precious cargo before her soldiers were hard on their heels.  It was the hope to lose their pursuers once they were in the darkened streets of the city, but well paid soldiers were persistent and better familiar with the city’s layout.  Before long, the soldiers had them cornered.

The Inquisition had no choice to fight their way through the rest of the city.  Felix was a perfect complement to Dorian’s aggressive style.  His focus was on barriers and mana regeneration which reduced the dependence on lyrium, but the battle was slowly taking a turn for the worse, despite the magical advantage.

“I don’t care if we do get caught!  It’s preferable to listening to that damn Qunari gloat that he was right about the plan falling apart!”  Felix rolled to dodge two men attacking at once, then stuck then in place with winter stillness. 

“Fighting!  Could we focus on that, yes?  I’d rather live if it’s all the same to you.”  Dorian cast a wall of fire to push back another advance.

“Fifteen royals.  I’ll be out fifteen royals and you know he’s going to drink every damn coin.” 

The Inquisitor fade stepped to avoid a slashing sword.  “You’ll owe me a new ass if you don’t shut up!”

“Quick!  In here!”  Skinner herded the group into a warehouse packed full of shipping crates.  Felix and the Inquisitor snatched up the heavy trunk containing their prize.  Once inside the building, everyone followed Skinner into the building except Cullen.  He remained behind to cleanse the area of magic in an attempt to hide their trail.  He rushed to catch up, relieving the Inquisitor from carrying the bulking trunk through the narrow pathway created by the warehouse’s goods.  Skinner motioned for them to stop while she scouted ahead to find the best option for escape.  The four rested silently, leaning against any surface that would support their weight and allow them to catch a few deep breaths. 

Skinner returned after a quarter hour, a grim line set in her mouth.  “We’re surrounded.  I can’t find a way out that doesn’t involve at least twenty guards.”

Twenty wouldn’t have normally been much of an issue, but they were all exhausted from running away from the estate and fighting their way through town. 

“Lovely.”  Dorian looked expectantly at the Inquisitor, hopeful she might have some alternative.    “Ashes, sweetheart, I wouldn’t mind seeing Felix forced into the poorhouse so long as you manage a convenient and heroic escape for us.  You do have one, don’t you?”

She chewed her bottom lip, worry written in her features.

 

**Chalons Estate Gardens**

The Iron Bull had anticipated there might be trouble and was ready to whistle for the reinforcements he had prepositioned.  A powerful mindblast sent all of the soldiers staggering to the ground.  The rest of the Chargers poured over the wall, making quick work of Gaspard’s men.  Fenris took on Hawke, striking blows with the flat of his blade, searching for an opening to knock him out.  Bull, Dalish, Krem and Varric worked on the Pride demon, eventually wearing it down.

“Wait!  Don’t kill it yet!”  Bull searched through the shadowed figures.  “Solas!  What do we do?  The damn Magister binded Hawke to this thing.”

Solas looked for Hawke and found that the weakened demon had also drained the mage.  Fenris comforted the crouching mage who ignored the gentle attentions.  “I can undo it, but you’ll need to kill that first.”

“With pleasure.”  Bull struck the killing blow to the Pride demon then made his rounds through the gardens, checking that the dead were dead and the living were cared for.

“Chief!  Good to see you made it out in one piece.”  Krem leaned forward, sniffing in curiosity.  “I see you found time for drinks, _without_ us.  I was starting to wonder if that kid was making shit up.”

Bull scanned the gardens for anything unfamiliar.  “What kid?”

“Dunno.  He left before the attack, reminding us when the boat leaves.  He was really concerned about that.  Said he had to be sure the others didn’t miss it.”

 

**Warehouse near the docks, Val Royeaux**

“What is keeping _you_ from coming up with anything?”  Cullen snapped in a hushed voice at Dorian.

“I have faith in the Inquisitor.”  Felix nudged Dorian.  “I’ll bet your share of carrying the trunk that she’ll pull something mysterious out of those robes yet.”

“I’m starting to think you may have a gambling problem.”  Dorian whispered over Felix’s shoulder.

“I’ll stop gambling when you stop drinking.”

“You shape words that should cut and hurt but they taste like home when you feed them to him.  Safe, happy, never again to hide in the shadows.”  Everyone jumped back from the boy who appeared suddenly as if from the mist itself.

“Cole!”  The Inquisitor dashed to envelop the stranger in a full hug.  “I was so worried that Harella had done something to you.”  She stepped back two paces to hold him at arm’s length.  “Are you alright?”

“Him?!  What about us?”  Skinner was the first to recover from the surprise of his arrival and transferred her attention back to the activity outside.

The Inquisitor nodded to Skinner in acquiescence.  “Yes, that.  Cole, will you help us get out of here?”

A smile bloomed on his face.  “You are not her, you are not from the fade. You are from beyond.  You sound different, I like it.  You want to stop the hurt.  I can help.”

Cullen’s worry had him spring forward, his arm wedging some space between Cole and the Inquisitor.  “Are you sure we can trust him?  Where has he been if he has always wanted to be helpful?”

“I was there, but she pushed me out.  Too loud, too hungry, dangerous, twisting, angry.  I made you forget, I did not want her to come for me.”

The Inquisitor held her hand up for him to stop.  “Not now Cole.  We need to get out of here and then we can talk.  Here’s what I need you to do…”

**Valmont Estate**

“Ambassador, we were able to capture one of heretics.”  The guards escorted a boy dressed in loose fitting clothing that was too mismatched to claim any nationality.

The prisoner corrected his keeper.  “You didn’t capture me.  I followed you here.”

Josephine was livid, her normally calm demeanor tousled by the chaotic events of the evening.  “Tell me boy, why did the Inquisitor come here?  Was this an attempt on the Empress’ life?”

The boy dipped his head low, his wide brimmed hat hiding his features and adding to his unnerving presence.  “Yellow, shiny, bright.  Coin feeds an army, it influences power, pulls allies off the fence, enables actions.” 

Josephine placed her hands on her hips, her tone becoming more aggressive. “I ensured their funds dried up.  The Inquisition should be crumbling apart.”

“No, it won’t now.  Hope bonds them together.  Stronger, taller, prouder.  She helps people.”

Josephine was irritated at his odd manner of speech, her patience wearing thin.  “If they are doing so well, then why did they come here to trying to kidnap me?”

The pale figure lifted his head.  His eyes were still obscured by this mussed straw colored hair.  “You weren’t the one they were after.”  There was a long moment of silence, then a pleased grin spread across his face inexplicably.  “They are out of the city.  I helped.” 

In a puff of smoke he was gone.   

**The Dales**

All of the Inquisition members regrouped at the docks for their chartered ship to Lydes. The Orleasian Navy was too quick to outrun, so they sailed south to cut into the Dales before going back to Skyhold.  Even with the head start, the Inquisition wasted no time once they were back on dry land to get into the relative safety of the thick woods of the Dales.

Dawn was threatening through the canopies of the massive trees when a familiar voice called out to the travelers.  “Inquisitor!”  Seeker Cassandra marched up briskly.

“Seeker.  I’m glad to see that you were successful in your negotiations.”  The Inquisitor looked around at the skeptical faces of the Freemen of the Dales who were with the Seeker.  The alliance she had hoped for was at least in the works if not solidified. 

“There are still some issues to resolve, but our common goal of seeing the infighting within Orlais come to an end is mutual ground.  I’m sure that we can take care of the remaining details with yourself and the Commander involved in the negotiations.”   She nodded to Cullen, grateful to see that he was well.  “How was your mission?  Was it successful?”

The Inquisitor called over her shoulder.  “Bull!”  The gathering crowd parted to let Bull and Dorian carry forth a large trunk that they had fastidiously cared for the entire trip.  They set it down carefully.  Dorian instantly cradled his back, bemoaning the pain and grumbling about the semantics of bets.  Bull pried the lid off, breaking the locks in the process.  The Inquisitor motioned for Cassandra to peer inside with her.  The Inquisitor stared unabashedly at the manacled bundle within, her bloodied eye intimidating their prisoner.  With a victorious smile, she offered a warm greeting, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Fluff and plot


	13. *It's Never Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has fond memories and past regrets that push him to act sooner on his inclinations. Is it soon enough?

Cullen didn’t have a chance to change out of the ridiculous Tevinter Templar armor.  His only comfort was that everyone else also wore the clothing from the hectic night in Val Royeaux.  The Freemen of the Dales served as the Inquisition’s escort to their main area of operations in the southern area of the Graves.  Being men of action and intolerant of the Games that nobles wasted their days on, Cullen and their leader, Fairbanks, got along instantly.  The terrain was continually changing which made conversations difficult.  This didn’t bother Cullen since he spent the entire journey recalling with pleasure, the trip into Val Royeaux.

He began with the night he and the Inquisitor spent in the infirmary, which had been…nice.  Neither of them knew that the entire night had passed them by until the Healer arrived to start his morning duties.  The way Ashes laughed with embarrassment then freely kissed the back of his hand before standing to take her leave was etched into his memory with such accuracy, he could live to be a hundred and remember every detail. 

That morning he admonished himself once for his untamed affections.  It was against the will of the Maker for a Templar to care for a mage in such a manner and it is the ultimate transgression for that mage to remain alive while possessed.

He was no longer a Templar.

She was not a demon.

Reluctantly, the Healer let Cullen take a short walk through Skyhold that afternoon with express instructions to not lift _anything_.  The walk eradicated his earlier misgivings.  People were happy.  Soldiers took pride in their work.  Reputable nobility visited with greater frequency and even greater coin.  It was more than he could ever dream such a risky venture becoming.  Her words flowed through his mind.  They felt familiar somehow.  It was like a memory that teetered on the edge of being a full recollection but he simply couldn’t pull it into focus.  At first he thought that she reminded him of Neria, which visually she did without the vallaslin, but he admitted now, that there was something about _her_ that touched him.

The following day they made ready to infiltrate the upper echelons of Orlais.  The mission was the first opportunity to put the newly acquired horses to the test.  Each one that Master Dennent chose were hale and strong, but one had to be left behind.  The Inquisitor was inexperienced with riding.  Traveling halfway across Orlais was not the time to learn, especially when the success of their mission was dependent on the adherence to a tight timeline. 

“Couldn’t I ride with the Commander?”  Her suggestion met his approval as he consciously put forth an effort to hide his eagerness under his well-used mask of professionalism.

The uninhibited delight that she took from the surrounding landscape was refreshing.  Cullen purposely held the reins low to press his arms into her waist.  He didn’t spend any further thought on what buried memory she evoked.  She was flesh and blood, here and in his arms.  The gait of the horse rocked her pleasantly against him, driving his mind into fantasies that flashed images of bared skin, raking fingernails, bruised lips, lapping tongues…

 _Maker! She consumes me._   Even trudging through the uneven terrain in the Graves, in the Void forsaken black armor didn’t hinder his threatening arousal. 

He should be afraid.  He should be prudent, cautious.  _This is insanity_.  And yet, he wouldn’t turn away from it.

Their destination was strategically hidden within a close cropping of trees that led to an intricate system of caves.  The advisors, Inquisitor, and their prisoner gathered in a small room Fairbanks cleared out for their use. 

The dispirited blonde gave no indication of wanting to escape or cooperate.  It was a safe assumption that being kidnapped in his sleep was not the most flattering tale for the Empress’ Champion.  “What will you do with me?  You know the Empress will not offer a ransom for a disgraced Champion.”

The Inquisitor took the lead.  Nothing was mentioned in the war room as to what her final plan would be once they had Michel.  “We have no need for a ransom.  We are going to make an alliance.”

Michel de Chevin’s chuckle carried derogatory amusement. “I had thought it was rumor that lunatics ran the Inquisition.  How wrong I was.”

The Inquisitor folded her arms and sneered at his failed insult.   “You’re rather witty for someone who is elf-blooded.” 

Cassandra’s eyes reflected the same bewilderment as Cullen when they exchanged glances behind the Inquisitor’s back.  Michel’s family was well known.  His lineage was beyond reproach.  What game was the Inquisitor playing at?  At first, Cullen believed that their plan was going to fall apart, until he saw how Michel stilled.

“Your father was a commoner, your mother an elven tavern worker.”  The Inquisitor stalked slowly up to him.  Her impossible knowledge frightened the seasoned Chevalier.

“How can you know that?”  All blood had drained from the man’s face.  He was fighting a tremor.  There was more at stake than his namesake.  The Inquisitor’s mood switched instantly to anger.  She maintained a level tone, but it was steeped in rage that stung like a wasp.

“You idiot.”  Michel backed against a wall, sweat betraying his panic.  “Where is Imshael?”

Michel looked to both Cullen and Cassandra with pleading eyes.  Neither offered any assistance.  Within seconds the Inquisitor’s patience evaporated.  Michel leapt away from the wall as blood oozed down from the ceiling.  The Inquisitor’s mouth twisted up in a menacing grin.  “You know what I am capable of.  I will not ask twice.”

A brief battle of decisions played across his face until the horror at his surroundings forced out an answer.  “Gaspard.”  The oozing slowed to a near stop, ruminants finishing their journey to the floor. 

The Inquisitor closed her eyes in exhausted disappointment.  “You lost the duel and in your last moments you…made a choice.”

The Chevalier stiffened his posture as a man who bravely faces the consequences of his misguided actions.  “Yes, Inquisitor.”

“He was more generous than I will be.  I’m not going to give you a choice.  You **will** swear yourself to the Inquisition.  You **will** contact your fiancé and have her relocate to Skyhold.”

The stress finally started to break through Michel’s calm.  “But Your Worship, I don’t know if I’m capable of that kind of leverage.  What do I tell the Empress?”

“Whatever you need to that will ensure she allies with us.  Considering what you have let happen, we have no choice but to side against Gaspard and see to it that he never ascends to the throne.”  She made a hand gesture without looking at Cullen.  Cullen called in the Captain waiting outside the door.

“See to it that our _guest_ is found appropriate quarters and that someone is always available if he needs anything.”  Understanding the orders to place the man under a constant guard, the Captain ushered the Chevalier out of the room. 

“What was that?  Who is Imsael?”  Cassandra asked as soon as they were alone. 

The Inquisitor shook her head in frustration.   “A long story short, Michel was forced into a duel with Gaspard.  If he lost the duel then he would have to forfeit his position as Celene’s Champion.  The Choice Spirit presented him with the option to have his elven heritage completely hidden forever in exchange for a host.”

“Maker watch over us.  The Empress’ cousin is possessed?”  Cassandra was shocked.

“Possessed and working on an alliance with Tevinter according to Bull.”  Cullen rubbed at his forehead hoping to prevent a headache that was looming.  With a sigh, he changed the subject by pointing to the reddened walls.  “Nice trick.”

“Thank you.”  In an instant, the illusion of the red liquid was gone.  “Dorian and I have been playing with the idea of keeping up appearances that I still practice blood magic for just such occasions.  With a repertoire of such fine tricks, I told Dorian that he should hire himself out to parties.  The well-thought out comment earned me a few fireballs.”  She rubbed at her shoulder, the apparent bull’s-eye of Dorian’s annoyance. 

Cullen quirked up the corner of his scarred lip.  Maker, she was endearing.  “Speaking of mages, what has been done with Ser Hawke?”

Cassandra turned to exit the room, inviting them to follow.  “He is being seen by Solas.  Dorian, and Felix are providing assistance.  Fenris is furious, as always.  They have him keeping a distance from Hawke as he recovers so his lyrium markings won’t interfere with their efforts to draw him back to this world.”  Cassandra scoffed.  “I still do not agree with your decision to forgive him so easily.” 

Cullen gave a slight nod.  “You didn’t see his face.  It was a mistake.  Besides, I’ve had him swear himself to the Inquisition as repayment.  With him staying here, so will Hawke.  It can never hurt to have a few veterans walking around Skyhold to inspire confidence.”

Cassandra was still not convinced, her voice accusatory.  “Inspire or frighten I wonder.” 

“Hawke will keep him under control.”  Only after he made the statement did it occur to him that Hawke might not survive the retrieval from the Fade.  When did he become so optimistic?  He glanced to his side at the Inquisitor.  He felt the pang of familiarity again, a type of deja-vu.  “Inquisitor, a word if I may?”

Cassandra waved her goodbye, Cullen steered the Inquisitor toward the perimeter of the encampment.  They walked side by side in silence until they were well outside the hearing range of the patrols. 

“That armor is actually quite flattering on you.” 

Cullen chuckled, “That’s about all it’s good for.  There are far too many weak points for anyone to use this in battle.  I’m amazed that Dorian and Felix have survived this long without proper armor.”

She entwined her fingers with his, holding hands as they continued their walk beyond the camp.  “An oversight you would never fall prey to, I’m sure.”  Cullen pulled on her hand to twirl her into his arms.  Her body pressed against his and for the first time since donning the ridiculous outfit, he was thankful for its thin material.  Her heat bled through, he could distinguish the roundness of her breasts and the pressure of her thigh against his groin.

"Don't."  It was a denial but she did not try to push away.

"I'm sorry I thought..." 

Scanning her features, she interrupted with a shaky voice.  "Cullen.  I'm so lost.  If you keep going, I won't be able to stop."

He held her tighter by wrapping his arm around her waist.  His other hand drifted to her cheek "I was patient with Neria.  Too patient and too afraid.  I loved her and always assumed there would be time later.  There never was.  I will not make that mistake again.  I care for you."  She stood frozen in his arms, he wanted to melt away her uncertainties.  He kissed her neck in delicate little touches.  "Everything that you have done for the inquisition, you have performed miracles."  A single chuckle stopped his tasting.  Cullen raised his head from her shoulder, locking his eyes with hers.  His hand drifted around her face to pull her hair free from its ties.  Hair spilled over her shoulders, longer than Cullen had imagined.  "As Cole puts it, you help people.  I will not stand by your side to face Corypheus in the final battle without you knowing how I feel."

She leapt into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, their mouths crushing together in fevered kisses.  The sudden force of her actions set Cullen stumbling backward, tripping over the irregular ground.  He fell backward, the pain barely even registered as he looked up to see her smiling down at him, her hair loose framing one side of her face.  _Flames she is beautiful._

She sat astride his hips, his lust straining against his borrowed armor.  His moan ended in a growl when he bucked up against her.  Lifting his head, too impatient to wait for her to lean down, he begged for more.  “Ashes.”  He licked at her lips before plunging his tongue into her mouth.  “You are irresistible.”

She dove in for more.  “I think you mean insatiable.”  She rocked her hips to grind on him.  “ _Oh-_ Cullen.”

He had dreamed of this moment countless times and believed each to be perfect.  This exceeded the bounds of his imagination.  His whole body yearned for more.  Suddenly, Cullen cried out in surprise, a sharp pain lacing through this hand.  He pressed his head back into the grass and tried to pull his hand from her back.  It didn’t move.  “What-?  Ashes!”

She was whimpering in pain, her eyes pressed tightly shut.  He could feel the lingering effects of Silence that kept her from crying out.  The spearheads of arrows protruded from her torso.  He lay stunned, covered in blood, his eyes irrationally fixed on the tips of the arrows.  

 _Not again._ _No, no, not again!_

Flashes of Neria cradled in then Warden Alistair’s arms after killing the archdemon in the Fifth Blight.  Even though her heart had long since stopped beating, he stood by and watched as blood continued to flow out of Neria’s body.  The pain of her final moments was frozen on her face, her body shook from the tremors of Alistair’s sorrow.  Cullen had been at Fort Drakon with the other Templars in the final battle, fending off waves of darkspawn to give the Wardens the time they needed.  It had worked.  Everything went according to plan, but to Cullen it had been a hollow victory.  Alistair would not release Neria’s corpse.  He could still remember how disappointment slammed into his chest that day.  _Oh._ _She has moved on._

Doing what he felt was the honorable thing, Cullen let Alistair have his privacy to grieve at the cost of his own closure.  Years later, he hated himself for never letting her know how much she meant to him.

A cheerful cackling snapped him back to the present, “Ahahaha!  You should see yourself.  Right stupid lookin’ you!  You were all kissy face and now you're all bloody face, eww!"

He rolled them onto their sides knowing she couldn’t support her own weight much longer.  He was still unable to free himself without doing significant damage to them both.  The source of the voice was not visible, but it was all too familiar. 

He howled into the forest, “ **SERA!** ”

A shadow loomed over him, he turned to face Sera as she crouched next to them.  “What the frig she do to you?  What happened to the smity-smite an’ all that rubbish?  Thought you would rather cut your own balls off than so much as touch miss-murder happy.  I can do that for ya, yeah?”

“Dammit, what are you doing?  Help me out of this…Ashes!  What’s wrong?  What have you done to her?!”  The Inquisitor was unresponsive, silent with wide glossy eyes.  Black blood began to drip from the corner of her mouth.

Sera produced an arrow that she twirled between she and Cullen.  “Special made these.  Found a guy that uses some herbs and elfy shite to make these.  Stops the use of magic.  Right useful innit?”  She examined their situation.  One of her arrows pinned Cullen’s hand to the Inquisitor and two more arrow pierced through her chest.  “Too good, right?  Perfect placement to make sure I see her suffer as she dies.”

“Wait!  Sera!” 

Cullen was unable to make any further protests when she crammed knockout dust in his face.  “You.  Stop talking.”

Through blurred vision he saw Sera lean closer to the Inquisitor.  Her hand propped up Ashes’ face so they were nearly nose to nose.

“Abomination.  There’s something that’s wrong with you.  It no longer matters.  Bad things happen to bad people.  It took some time, but I gots ya, you friggin’ shitter.” 

Cullen tried to get up, tried to do _something._   His efforts were met with a boot propped on his side, holding him down and creating a new source of pain as Sera leaned all of her weight onto him.  Sera grabbed a fist full of Ashes’ hair to watch her eyes begin to white out as they rolled back into her head.    

“Die you shitey-fucking-piss-bitch, **die!** ”  Abruptly, Sera was forced on her ass from her victory stance.  Cullen caught a flash of mismatched clothing that could only be Cole and let loose a surge of blessed blades to help him in his solo fight with Sera.  A string of curses that faded into the forest indicated that Sera chose retreat instead of taking on the accomplished rogue spirit.

Cullen tried to call out, but the effects of the power were still lingering.  Judging by his level of incapacitation, Sera had mixed a fortified solution, not wanting to take any chances.  Choking on his efforts to speak to Cole, the rogue placed a calming hand on Cullen’s shoulder to stop his struggles.

“I will get help.  The poison is securis from Tevinter.”  He turned his head from Cullen, his eyes hidden in the depth of his hat adding an eerie feeling to his words.  “Blood for blood, it will never be right.  Make her hurt, make her suffer.  They were innocent, all my fault.”  Cole vanished, leaving behind a thin mist.

Cullen turned his attention on Ashes.  _Not again, not now!_   He adjusted himself to better support her, keeping her on her side to prevent the arrows from moving through her body further.  When he spoke, even will all his effort, he couldn’t manage louder than a whisper.  “Stay with me, please.  I am here.  Cole is getting help, you will be alright.”

Rustling in the foliage announced a group approaching.  All of the Inquisition party rushed out.  Most stayed back, allowing the mages space to work.

“Chargers!  Spread out, find her!”  Bull snapped out his orders.  Keeping near, he assumed a defensive stance, ready for a second attack.

Felix took the lead at the Inquisitor’s side, carefully examining the wounds without moving her overmuch.  By snapping the arrows in half and pulling them through the front, Cullen was finally free to move away.  Cullen stepped back several feet until he bumped into Cassandra.  A dressing was thrust at his hands, “What happened?”

“Sera.  Poisoned arrows.”  His voice was cracking but slightly louder than earlier.  With a freshly wrapped hand, he rubbed at his face.  “Damn knockout powder.” 

Everyone was watching the mages work, aside from Bull who kept his eye to the outside of the circle, ready.  Felix directed the other two on how and where to channel their magic.  Each one focused on their task and following orders without complaint.  It was a drastic change from the normal caustic banter among the three.  

Tension held everyone present to their spot.  No one dared move.  The mumblings among the mages became more hurried.  Words were more urgent.  Cullen hadn’t been aware of the silence until it was broken by Cole’s cryptic incantation.  For the first time since meeting the boy, no one had to guess at his meaning. 

“The pain blinds, deafens…was it enough?  Remember, remember.  Everything is different.  What is next?  The feel of strong hands-protective, passionate.  He will see this through…I don’t want to leave, too much to do…Cullen…

Gone.”

 

**“NO!  NOT AGAIN!”**

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. You Lead Me to Strange Places

Fenris was tired of waiting.  He waited for Hawke to return from the Inquisition.  He waited years ago in Kirkwall to reconcile their relationship.  Neither instance was easy for Fenris to endure.  Waiting was not what Fenris did well.  His anger was consuming him, he wanted to lash out with his sword, to cut deep into an object and feel the force of his blows.  Testing his muscles reminded him that his strength was there, that he had the power to see this through, to help Hawke however he needed.  The trees in the Graves were what gave the area its name, they marked the graves of those who died during the Exalted March.  Fenris didn’t feel any kinship with the Dalish, however he did respect their customs enough to refrain from defacing a physical tribute to sacrifice.

 _Kaffas!_   He should be with him.  Cullen did say that he trusted these mages with his life.  What would he know?  He’s been blindsided by the Inquisitor this entire time.  Fenris didn’t trust Hawke with _anyone._   They have had time enough!  Abandoning the outskirts of the encampment, Fenris made his way toward the healer’s area. 

Anger switched to fear when Fenris saw Hawke lying still and unattended.  Gracefully, he crouched at Hawke’s side and searched for any indication of what to do.  Healing physical maladies were more within his abilities, but this was magic and far beyond what Fenris could handle.  Finally accepting his helplessness, Fenris clutched Hawke’s hand and held it to his cheek so that he may keep watch over Hawke. 

“Don’t die Hawke.  We have had too few adventures together.  Without you, I don’t know what I shall do.  The taste of life without you is worse than charred ashes.”

The limp fingers curled lightly around Fenris’ jaw.  His heart quickened and his body froze, too tense to risk disturbing whatever had given Hawke to power to move.  A pleasant voice croaked at him.  “You need to quit drinking that shit wine from Tevinter.”

The words snapped his tension like a broken lute string.  Fenris melted next to his lover.  Hawke’s eyes searched for Fenris beneath half-closed eyelids.  By the Maker, he was alive and back to normal, which was all that mattered. The harsh admonishment that Fenris had mentally worked on since he left the Free Marches was instantly forgotten.  Fenris dropped the hand he was holding in favor of cupping the shabby face of the most perfect man the world has known.  Their lips caressed in thankful delicate kisses until Hawke’s hand seized Fenris by the hair and forcing him in to take him harder, hungry with passion.  Hawke bit Fenris’ lower lip playfully, “I was right you know.  During the entirety of my captivity, I knew you would be the one to save me.”

Fenris ran his thumb reverently across Hawke’s bottom lip.  “Had I been by your side, you would not have been taken.”

Fenris watched an argument form and then die on Hawke’s face.  “Perhaps…you are right about that.”  The tone of his response spoke volumes more than his words.  If Fenris had been with them, they would have died in battle.   

Hawke’s eyes circled around Fenris’ face, “Where are we?”

“I sought the Inquisition’s help to find you.  We are now in the Emerald Graves.”  Fenris helped Hawke to his feet when he attempted to do so on his own.  Fenris learned years ago that Hawke was impossibly stubborn and that this particular instance was not a battle worth fighting.

“If we are with the Inquisition, where is everyone?  Have they finally developed some sense and killed off that bitch who calls herself Inquisitor?”  Now on his feet, Hawke turned his head to fully absorb their location. 

Fenris scoffed derisively, “No.  She yet lives.”

They both stood in confusion as they watched news ripple through the people wondering about the camp near them.  The mutterings were in astonishment, some were in disbelief while others reacted with fear.  Everyone was consumed with the news that the Inquisitor was dead. 

Fenris was mildly shocked, but Hawke laughed without a care.  “Haha!  I have to see this!” 

With renewed vigor, Hawke tugged at Fenris’ arm in the direction that people were fleeing from.  They pushed through some distance of thick foliage that eventually broke into a clearing full of Inquisition members.

“Hawke!  Am I glad to see you up an about.”  Varric jogged to his side and noticing the object of his gaze answered the unspoken question.  “She’s dead.  Sera found some really nasty shit from Tevinter to poison her arrows.  It nullified her magic.  The mages…they couldn’t help her.”

“Oh, fuck Varric, don’t sound so gloomy.”  Hawke waved a dismissive hand in his direction.  “It’s not as though anyone will miss that psychopath.”

Varric jerked Hawke away from the others by his robes.  His voice was a harsh whisper.  “Don’t you say that!  You wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t insisted on it.”

Fenris snorted, “Only because it coincided with the plan to infiltrate Gaspard’s ranks.” 

“And you are lucky you aren’t in chains after you almost killed Cullen.”  Fenris has known Varric for years and has never seen him this agitated or quick to anger.  Or even angry.  Hawke seemed to notice the oddity as well when he shared a helpless look with Fenris. 

The elven warrior looked to the group with an open mind.  Each person wore the heavy weight that comes with the loss of a friend.  Cullen was visibly forlorn while he cradled the limp body to his chest, searching for hope or closure.  Whichever came first, if at all. 

The assessment was broken when Fenris heard the unnerving words from the demonic child who suddenly appeared next to them.  “I want to help, but I can’t.  He can help, but he doesn’t want to.”

Bull, always attuned to everything around him spoke with a booming voice.  “Who can help?”

In the silence, Fenris kept his hold on Hawke.  The thought had barely formed in his mind before Cole voiced it for everyone’s ears.  Knowing he could not escape the scrutiny, he confessed, “I’ve never done it before.  It is likely that it will not work.”

Seeing how Cullen was heartbroken about the Inquisitor’s death, Fenris expected him to be the one to ask him to make an attempt.  Cullen would plead on behalf of their friendship.  Hawke would tease the ex-Templar for falling for a mage, then Fenris would begrudgingly agree under the pressure of both Cullen and Hawke in the name of pity.  That was what he expected, hence why he was astounded with the way things unfolded instead.

Dorian gingerly approached Fenris with his hands folded in front of him.  The posture he held while approaching Fenris was weak, emotionally and physically drained.  “I know that there is nothing that I can offer to tempt you.”  The mage was getting too close for Fenris’ comfort and he glowered at him, which halted his advance. 

“However, I am aware that you are from Tevinter.”  He dropped to his knees, his body crashing toward the ground under the weight of humility.  “I, Magister Dorian Pavus am begging you…”  he clinched his eyes shut to keep hold of his resolve as he teetered on the edge breaking down like the others around them.  “I’m begging you to please, make the attempt.”

This never happened.  No Magister even under threat of death would allow themselves to be publicly degraded. 

“What the fuck happened while I was gone!?  Every one of you is crazier than Meredith ever was!”  Hawke pulled on Fenris’ arm that was still supporting him.  “We need to get out of here.  This disease, whatever it is, it is spreading faster than anything Isabella brought back from the sea to the Hanged Man.”

Fenris wanted to laugh at the inside joke about their openly promiscuous friend, but he was still in shock at Dorian’s plea.  He wanted to side with Hawke, this was madness.  _What would it hurt to try?  I will probably fail anyway._   He took one step toward the Inquisitor.  Hawke held him back.  “You cannot be serious?”

“It is only logical.  She carries the mark, which can close the rifts.  Without it, there is little hope to repairing the damage that Corypheus has wrought.”  Hawke let go, satisfied that Fenris wasn’t lost to empathy for the woman who saw him bound to a demon. 

Cullen stared up at Fenris when he stood over the pair.  His arms eased their grip and eyes rimmed red with grief looked up at him.  “Whatever you plan to do, I trust you.”

Cynicism laughed in Fenris’ mind.  What trust was there to be given?  She was already dead, what worse could he do?  With a roll of his shoulders, he flared his markings to pass his hand through her chest.  Once his hand reached her heart, he concentrated to have his fingers solidify enough to massage the muscle in a similar pattern as though it were beating once more.  As his hand grew accustomed to the movements, he sparked his lyrium to send jolts of energy through his fingertips. 

There was a change, subtle, but it was there.  Maker, his mad scheme might actually work. 

The ragged apostate Solas cried out from a distance.  "Wait!  Your lyrium - the mark - they're reacting..."

Solas was too far away to stop the explosion of green and blue that flashed.  Fenris was suddenly blind and numb to his senses.  Time no longer registered. 

***

_What am I doing on the ground?  Did I fall?_

“Fenris.” The clipped tone had Fenris’ heart practically explode in his chest.  _No, it can’t be._

“Fenris.  Off the floor this instant.”  He wanted to run-scream-die-attack-maim, Maker anything!  All he could manage was opening his eyes to confirm what he knew to be impossible.  His old Master, Denarius stood over him impatiently.  Fenris tried to scramble to his feet, yet his body refused to respond at the same pace as his racing mind.  Raging drunks rose from the floor quicker than he could manage at present.

“Come little wolf.  We cannot keep the others waiting.”  The haughty meter of his voice dug into Fenris’ soul, uprooting every nightmare, every fear that he had buried.

With a frustrated sigh, Denarius snapped his fingers then spoke to the Tevinter Templars who were nearby.  “Get him on his feet.  I’ve no time for this.  I understand that the Viscount and the Arishok are already in attendance.”

Fenris let the Templars carry him by the arms even though he could feel his strength returning.  _It is better if they think me weak.  When I kill him again, it will be unexpected, but much, much slower than last time._   They traveled through grand halls that were once richly decorated in typical Tevinter fashion, however the building was in ruins.  Gaping holes bored through walls, over turned furniture, roofs leaking daylight, all of it made no sense.  Tevinter was inordinately proud of their history and never let anything fall into ruin. Were they in Tevinter?  What happened when her mark reacted to his lyrium?

Denarius had set a brisk pace and they arrived at the aforementioned meeting.  _What in the Void is going on?!_   Perhaps it was fortunate that he still couldn’t speak, otherwise he would have uttered the words aloud.

The room was better preserved than the rest of what Fenris had seen.  It had once been the place of some type of political lawmaking as the benched seating was done stadium style and encircled the  hexagonal stage down below.  No one sat in the repetitive tiers and the stage held a cluster of mix-matched chairs.  At the center was a tattered map on a massive table, similar to the one he had seen in the Inquisition’s War Room.  Fenris waved off his escort, deciding to play along until he could figure his way out of this.  It chilled him to the bone how easily he fell into step exactly two paces behind and one pace to the right of Denarius.  It was as though he never left his post.  Fenris wanted to vomit.

As they descended the ally of stairs, the stage became clearer.  Fenris could now see that there were indeed two figures seated near the sprawling table.  He noticed the glint of the thorned crown of Kirkwall and the outline of two horns protruding from the chair’s silhouette verifying Denarius’ assertion that the Viscount and Arishok were waiting.  When they reached the ground level, Denarius extoled greetings and practiced praise on the two men.  Fenris was deaf to the Magister’s noise.  Another door to his right opened and a hooded mage strode confidently and briskly down the narrow hall.  The grand chambers were poorly lit by the few windows high above them and no one had bothered to light any torches.  The mage was nearly upon them when Fenris felt an icy chill rush through his blood. 

Denarius slinked past Fenris to greet the newcomer.  “My Lord Archon.”  He bowed low.  “As you requested,”  Denarius gestured to Fenris.  “this is the inspiration that has formed the new Tevinter army.” 

Not knowing how else to hide his astonishment, Fenris reverted to the nauseating routine of enslavement.  At the end of Denarius’ presentation, Fenris submissively knelt before the ruler of the Tevinter Imperium, bowing his head so low that his chin touched his chest.  A ringed hand lifted his face by the chin.  A bored, familiar tone was raised to intentionally drift throughout the room.  “Are you certain this is the slave we want?”

Fenris physically shook as he tried to contain the violence within him.  Images of Hawke stayed his hand, remembering the man’s voice calmed his nerves.  He needed to gain their trust, find Hawke and then kill them all.  Unbidden, a dark smile carved itself onto his face.  He felt immense gratification that earlier he had seen this so-called Archon on his knees begging like a dog.  Catching the budding confusion on Denarius’ face, Fenris covered his amusement with the demeanor of a grateful slave eager to please.

“I am whatever you need me to be, Archon Pavus.”


	15. The Fear of Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickest update ever. Seems I left too much open with the last update.

The wind whipping against fabric let him know he was in a tent.  Bull rubbed at his eye trying to remove the sting from the flash.  His left hand rubbed at a pain in his skull.  It wasn’t a headache.  The left eye was stinging.  Slowly, he ran his fingers down where his patch should be and was met with the soft flesh of a functioning eyelid. 

“Arishok.”  A distinctly Qunari accent spoke.  Bull snapped his head in the direction of the voice and he almost lost his balance.  In addition to having both eyes, he now felt the added weight of having both his horns intact.  _What sick torture is this?_

A Sten addressed Bull as though they had always worked together and nothing was amiss. “The Inquisitor wishes to have a word.”

Years of Ben-Hassrath training were almost wasted when he momentarily lapsed in schooling his expression.  Bull copied the posture he had witnessed countless times in order to assume the role the Sten placed on him.  “Of course.”          

The Sten’s stiff arm pushed aside the entrance’s flap to permit the Inquisitor admittance.  A perfect copy of Harella before Solas’ intervention walked through and stopped a respectable distance.  Seeing her with the vallaslin brought back bad memories, yet he held back judgment as he read her tells [ _nervous-unsure-alone?_ ]

Nodding to the Sten, Bull dismissed him.  “Fazha thrin.”

“Where did we meet?”  Her tone was different, her voice left a sweet flavor in his ears.  A desire to hear her speak again if only for the soothing comfort the sound of her voice brought.    

“In Val Chevin.”

“In the swamp.  I was rescuing Dorian.”  Now his Inquisitor was showing [ _confidence-caring-hopeful_ ]

“I seem to remember rescuing both of you.”  She walked closer, but he intercepted her.  “Outside.  I need to see our surroundings.”

They walked into the mist of a massive Qunari encampment.  To the north was a battered Tevinter fortress and to the west was another military encampment, possibly Vints if guessing by the dark colors. 

“Thank the Maker it’s you.  Do you recognize where you are?  Wait, no you wouldn’t.  This is the Fade.  Take a moment to accept that fact and you should be able to see the crispness of reality blur a bit.”

The world around him had already begun to do so once he believed that this elf was the same woman who he watched die in the Graves.  “Why…this?”  He gestured to his armor that announced him as Arishok.

She scanned their surroundings, then laughed briefly at herself.  “I’m an idiot.  It’s not as though it would show itself.  The Nightmare must be reading my memories, placing us within this rejected reality.”

“This is a possible reality?”

“One of many that does not end well.  Too many deaths.”  She shook her head regretfully, “Hence why I rejected it.”

“Alright, I don’t need to know any more.  No more demon crap.  We need to find the others and get the fuck out of here.”

“Agreed.  Hopefully Fenris is here as well, otherwise we’ll have to get creative.  That fortress has council chambers located at the center.  We can meet up there.  It is the easiest place to find.  I’ll check the encampment, you take the fortress.”  They started to part ways, but Bull felt her tug on his armor.  “These damn demons hold nothing over you.  You are the Iron Fucking Bull, slayer of giants and slaughterer of dragons.  We _will_ see the dawn and plow through any demons stupid enough to get in our way.”

He watched her eyes, her face and the steadfastness of her posture as she spoke.  Unlike many who attempted to give inspiration to others, she held conviction that was palpable.  As a mercenary who has fought countless enemies, many of them mages, he knew what magic felt like.  That voice…the words had a physical quality.  They flowed over him to hug the contours of his skin and soaked into his muscles, acting like magic and yet distinctly different.  There was nothing false in what she shared.  It drew from within him, digging deep in his soul and him unaware that he had such untapped strength. 

The Iron Bull physically stood in the Fade, surrounded by demons and he was at peace.  “For you, Kadan.”

The grim line set in her mouth did not match the gratitude in her eyes.  A single word between them solidified his trust in her.  “For us all.”

Bull walked through the guarded fortress unchallenged.  He didn’t think that anyone would question an Arishok, but this was the Fade and things could take a turn for the worse quickly. 

A whisper floated over his shoulder.  _Many have ridden the Bull.  Tell me, shall I take a turn?  Think how exotic a demon would be.  I would fit well over that waist of yours, or rather within you._

This had to be the Nightmare Ashes mentioned, each word carefully chosen to pry at his weaknesses.  They struck at him like a sharpened blade that crashed against armor.  He never felt the sting.  He remembered how Ashes’ voice rested within him, forcing his strength to the surface.  Bull muttered under his breath, “Not this time demon.” 

Rounding a corner, he recognized Kirkwall’s insignia on the human guards.  Their posture straightened [ _don’t slack on duty-is there news?_ ].  They worked for someone important, so Bull took a shot.  “Where is Hawke?”

Hopefully it was a good sign that the guards were startled at his request [ _hesitation-Maker he’s big-submission_ ].  “The Viscount is this way Lord Arishok.”

Walking into the dilapidated quarters, Hawke was already having an animated conversation with Dorian.  “Don’t tell me you don’t hear it too!”

“I didn’t say that I _didn’t_ , just that I can’t hear what it says to you!”  Both mages turned at the same time when Bull slammed the door shut behind him.  They both read the same [ _is he, he?-did he hear too much?-do we kill him?-_ can _we kill him?_ ]

Raising his hands non-threateningly, he eased their minds.  “The last time I saw you two we were in the Emerald Graves staring at Sera’s handiwork.”

Hawke relaxed against his staff as he addressed Bull [ _jealousy_ ] “Aren’t we looking well put together?”

“Better than you.”  Bull chuckled at Hawke’s shaved face and the ridiculous crown that marked his station.  “You look like a shaved nug’s ass shoved through a fancy cock ring.”

Dorain stepped between them.  “As entertaining as it is to listen to you two exchange increasingly disgusting insults.  We do have the small matter of getting out of here to address first, yes?”

“The quieter we are about it the better.  I came from the camp west of here.  Not only is every able body from Kirkwall there, so is every slave from Tevinter.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes at Hawke [ _irritation-typical barbarian-ignorant assumptions-anger_ ].  “Honestly, not everyone from Tevinter who is not a mage is a slave.”

[ _arrogant-self-absorbed idiot_ ]“Well, _Archon_ , I don’t know of many freemen who would willingly take on the same lyrium markings as  Fenris.”

The shock on Dorian’s face matched what Bull felt.  “How many?”

Frustrated, Bull decided to end the pointless conversation.  “Stop.  Focus.  We need to find Fenris so we can get out of here quickly.  The Boss is outside already on the hunt for the others.”

Dorian piped up cheerfully [ _eagerness-hope_ ]. “Denarius!  I saw him on the way here.  Since he’s not with Hawke, perhaps he’s still with his old master.”

“Fine.  You do that, Hawke and I will search the Fortress, ask a few questions then meet you in the council chambers.  Ashes will met us there.”  Bull always found that directed purpose kept minds from wondering.  Especially if they could wonder in a manner that led to demonic possession.  Judging from their skittish behavior when he walked in, they were hearing voices too and not handling it well. 

It wasn’t long before Hawke and Bull were waiting alone in the council chambers after their inquiries turned up dry.  At one point he caught Hawke muttering under his breath [ _fear-rage-fear-worry-DREAD_ ].  “Don’t listen Hawke, the demon is trying to manipulate you.”’

Hawke nodded in agreement, but kept a tight grip on the chairs armrest while concentrating on taking steady breaths. 

Finally the silence was broken by footsteps descending the stairs, headed toward the center stage where they waited for Dorian to return.  Bull whispered to Hawke when he saw the tension rippling through his body [ _murderous rage-hatred-revenge_ ].  “Demon, remember?  Don’t piss it off, not yet.  Think about Fenris.”

Hawke visibly bit into his cheek and sat forcing his back into the chair.  They weren’t sure if he was _the_ Fenris.  They couldn’t expect a demon posing as Fenris to help them out of there.  They had to be sure.  The Magister with Fenris approached and began babbling like any idiot noble.  Bull kept his eyes on Fenris, searching…

The Magister shut his cock holster long enough to acknowledge Dorian when he entered the room.  A flicker of recognition sparked in Fenris’ eyes.  Bull nodded with a smile to Hawke [ _relief-comfort-anxious_ ]. 

“Are you certain this is the slave we want?”  Hawke answered Dorian with an eager nod that went unnoticed by Denarius.  “Very well then.”  Dorian flicked his hand dismissively toward the Magister without looking at him.  “That will be all.  I will return your property once we are done with him.”

Denarius retreated with a deep bow.  “Of course Lord Archon.”

Once the door was shut, simultaneously Dorian leapt away from Fenris as Hawke rushed him.  Bull didn't blame Dorian's cowardice.  He sure as fuck didn't want to be anywhere near that creepy ass hand of his.  The flurry of movement stalled any action that Fenris could have taken. 

“Fenris!  Are you alright?”  Hawke held him at arm’s length, examining his whole body [ _prior abuse-a repeat?-never again- **I will not allow it!**_ ]. 

“Hawke?  What happened to you?”  Fenris ran a tentative hand along Hawke's clean shaven jaw [ _confusion-belated recognition-the change is revolting_ ].

“It’s the damn Fade.” Fenris glanced at Bull’s changed appearance and accepted the explanation.  Anger at being fooled by demons flushed through Fenris’ skin, energizing his lyrium.  “Easy, love.  We’re outnumbered but there’s a plan to get out of here before the demons descend on us.”  Hawke turned to Dorian.  “Did you find anyone else?”

“Just me and Ace here.”  Varric and Felix walked through the same door that Dorian used moments ago. 

“So!”  Felix clapped his hands then rubbed them together [ _apprehensive-distraction-fear-deflection_ ].  “Anyone up for a game of cards while we wait?”

Cole’s sudden appearance prevented anyone taking Felix’s offer.  “The Nightmare is hungry.  It is hunting for fear.  It has tasted the offerings.  Acceptable, but no, not yet.”

Bull watched Dorian who observed Cole while posing his question [ _are there answers?-we need help_ ].  “It’s waiting for something is it?”

“In that case, I’d prefer if we _not_ wait around to find out.”  Felix turned to Bull.  “What now?”

The sound of a door opening at the opposite side of the room sent a shock wave of unease through the group. 

“It’s only us.”  Cassandra was the first to walk through, followed by Solas and the Inquisitor. 

Years of fighting in battle gave Bull acute situational awareness when he was in a group of people.  The position, stance and number of people who were present before arriving in the Fade was etched into his mind.  They were missing one person.  “Where’s Cullen?”

Ashes squirmed faintly at the question [ _hesitation-debate-resolution_ ].  “There might be a complication.  We’ll find Cullen in the dungeon.”

As though things were not creepy enough, Cole was being Cole.  “She’s worried about the colors.  Green and blue brought us to the Fade.  What will green, blue and red do?”

Bull could feel the fear reaching a finger out to touch each of his companions.  “Kid, now is _really_ not the time for your weird shit.”

 **“Fate.”**   The name echoed throughout the room, never hinting at the source.

The Inquisition members tightened into a defensive circular formation, each person facing outward, bracing for an attack. 

“Still wanna play cards Ace?”  Varric clipped while he nocked an arrow in his crossbow.

“Maker have mercy!”  Cassandra’s cry brought everyone’s attention to the Commander who marched in front of Corypheus as they joined them in the room.  Cullen’s eyes sparkled with a red glow.  A series of red lyrium cracks split up the right side of his face.  The armor he wore was adorned with red lyrium crystals. 

Ashes moved to the front of the group.  Cullen drew his sword in response and she ignored it.  “Let him go.”

“You have no power here.  What little you did have was wasted on the mercenary.  Are you sure you paid enough for his loyalty?”  Corypheus spoke with the same haunting voice that spoke before.  This was the Nightmare. 

“You tried to hide this, but I found it.” 

Ashes bared her teeth when she growled at him.  “Step away from the Commander and I’ll help you find something else.”

“Fate.  Walking on the wrong side of the Void aren’t we?  Do your companions know how you failed?”

“Boss, what do we do?”  When she didn’t answer, Bull darted his eyes at her, then returned his focus on the double threat before them.  _Shit!  He’s getting to her._

“You were supposed to find a solution, a timeline that met certain criteria to ensure the survival of this world and its people.”  With open arms, the demon gestured to their surroundings.  “This was it!  The perfect solution.  Why is this not our reality?”

At her silence, he grasped Cullen’s face with an elongated crystalline hand.  The freakishly long fingers easily coiled around the Commander’s face and he began to squeeze.  The edges slowly sliced into Cullen’s skin.  The blood was dark compared to the brightness of the lyrium.  Globs of it dripped off the demon’s fingertips. 

“I kept searching!  There had to be a way that didn’t sacrifice so many.”

“And if you don’t find a way?  How much further will you tear this world apart to find the solution you desire?”  It laughed from deep within its throat in a way that could have given dragon scales goosebumps.  “They don’t know that this is all your fault do they?  Tell them what happens each time you create a new reality.”  This time he didn’t wait.  His grip tightened to pop Cullen’s jaw loose with a sickening crack, then the crunch of grinding bone.

“I weakened the safeguards!”  She cried out the words while fighting back sobs.  _Stay focused Kadan._

“Yes.  The Templar-Warden war, Harella, Gaspard, a diseased Inquisition, all fell into place to create the perfect feast for any demon.  Thanks to you.”

Ashes was beginning to crumble to the ground, her guilt tearing her to shreds.  _Why is this continuing?!_   Bull looked behind him and saw that a barrier separated he and Ashes from the rest.  They were fighting unsuccessfully to break down the ethereal wall.  As Bull worked to formulate a course of action, the demon’s words resurfaced.

_“…wasted on the mercenary.”_

Bull wrapped Ashes in his massive arms to shield her from his harassment.  He curled his head into the nook where her shoulder met her neck.  Whispering in her ear, he tried to break the power the demon wielded over her.  “Don’t listen Kadan.  We are here.  We stand with you.”

He must have done something right.  The demon changed tactics.  Colors swirled all around them.  The room became the grand hall in Skyhold.  A stagnant rift glowed bright in the center of the room.  Bull rose to his feet, keeping his hold on the Inquisitor.  Abominations had poured from the rift and stood over each member, frozen moments before striking a killing blow.

“You even found this one.  A small sacrifice and the world would be a better place.  The death of a popular Inquisition would inspire the world.  Martyrs for a great and noble cause.  Now you don’t even have that.”  Another bone-chilling laugh.  “You have made their deaths meaningless.  For what?  Love?”

The Nightmare choked on the next wave of laughter.  The barrier that isolated the Inquisitor had fallen.  Sputters of blood burst from the fake Corypheus as Cullen viciously attacked the creature with the enhanced weapon that it had given him.  That unassuming chantry boy astounded Bull to the point of being speechless.  He broke through being a thrall of a demon of his own will.  _Never underestimate the power of faith._

Solas hauled Fenris by the wrist to the Inquisitor’s side.  “Everyone close together!  Quickly!”  Fenris charged his lyrium and allowed Solas to guide the energy through the Inquisitor’s mark. 

A crippled body fought to crawl closer, failing miserably but not giving up.  The goal was possibly to create a disturbing enough image to haunt their dreams for as long as possible.  “This is not over, Fate!  Despair will find you!”

If there were more to the demon’s threat, it was cut short by an explosion of green and blue.


	16. Good Intentions Can Have Bad Results

Her back ached and stung as she moved within Bull’s arms.  His body moved against hers as his head swiveled, undoubtedly searching for the next threat.  Releasing her gingerly, she could tell that he was still apprehensive. 

She had known her actions were risky, her feelings unnatural – forbidden.  Now she understood why.  Her infatuation was the root cause of all the trouble this world suffered, will suffer.  She should have been objective.

“We should be safe here.  For the moment.”  Gasping for breath, Solas was exhausted from fighting to control the connection between Ashes and Fenris.

Varric notched an arrow.  “Very reassuring Chuckles.” 

Fenris jerked his hand away from Solas, marching as far away as he dared.  They were still in the Fade and going off alone was suicide.  Instinctively, the group moved to create a circle, each person facing outward at times, hunting for unsuspected danger. 

Cullen was sprawled on the ground, his groans were stifled by his efforts to not move.  Solas called out, “Felix, help Cullen.  We have to tend to him before we can leave the Fade or his transformation is permanent.”  Felix began casting magic as he briskly walked to the Commander’s side to heal the jaw left damaged from the demon.  Ashes sprinted to them. 

Once his face was repaired, Cullen tried to stand but all he could manage was to hunch over, sitting on his knees, his hands braced into the dirt.  She knelt with him as she placed her hands on his neck as best she could with the red shards jutting out at odd angles.  Felix stood, stepping backward to give her room. 

Taking a few calming breaths, she steadied herself to hide the fear before speaking to him.  “Remember.   _Honor the gift of the Maker by swearing to protect all mages from themselves._ You are stronger than forged steel, you are tempered with the will of the Maker.  _Honor your charges by defending them from the world who fears magic._   You do not flinch when faced with adversity. _Just and righteous are those who dedicate themselves to the mantle of guardian of the Maker’s Work_.  You are the guardian of more than a single group of people, you protect **all** who cannot protect themselves.  Your selflessness and dedication make you greater than any could ever hope to be.  Remember who you are.” 

The lyrium burned against her skin but she didn’t dare move her hands away.  She knew the others were around them, talking about them but she blocked them out.  She waited.  Nothing was happening.  Her confidence was cracking, sending tremors through her body. 

“Please.  Say something.”  He didn’t attack which eliminated the possibility of him still being a thrall, yet he didn’t respond to anything she said. 

“I did this.”  The whisper choked her.  Regret for everything she ever did, said or thought slammed heavy in her heart.  “I’m sorry.  If I could…” 

The words died on her lips.  Nothing she could say would ever atone for this grave misstep.  Her head fell forward, pressing against his cracked skin, the red crystals felt like thorns.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered without him.  “Cullen.”  It was barely audible, cut short because she instantly pressed her lips to his.  The taste was foul and bitter, tainted by the glowing corruption.  She didn’t care. 

He returned the kiss. 

She reverted to the language most familiar to the spirit world.  Excitement bubbled so quickly she couldn’t remember the common tongue.  “Emma lath, Mala suledin nadas.  Era na’din.”  Each word spoken melodically, hoping that the connotation would convey the sincerity of her meaning. 

Jagged fingers dug into her shoulders while Cullen’s head leaned against hers.  “Ashes?”  Without an answer, he enveloped her, pressing her hard against his armor and burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

She ignored the discomfort, focusing solely on Cullen.  “Era na’din.  Tel'enfenim ma sa'lath.  Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas.”

Holding her tight, she could feel the crystalline shards fade away.  The deep cuts in his face sealed themselves leaving behind only the prickle of his stubble against her shoulder.  She pushed on his breastplate so she could watch her hand run down his restored face.  “I was so worried.”

Cullen tried to stand but seethed in pain that the lyrium armor caused.  Taking one of Ashes’ hands, he closed his eyes and forced the Fade to take back the unwanted vestments.  Finally, wearing his rightful garments, he stood, pulling Ashes up with him.  Ashes was not surprised to notice that the mages with them were stunned beyond words. 

Unfamiliar with the workings of the Fade, Cullen cringed shyly under their scrutiny.  “What did you do?”

Solas was the first to recover.  “She did nothing.  This is fascinating.”

“You’re not even a mage and you reshaped the Fade!”  Dorian exclaimed with equal parts excitement and jealousy. 

Fenris derailed the conversation.  “That voice.  I know it.” He nudged Hawke to have him support his story.  “When we faced the demons who were attacking Feynrial, back in Kirkwall,  she is the voice I heard.  When the demons called out to me.  They taunted me with power, remorse, pride – you,”  He pointed at Ashes.  “You silenced them.”

Until this moment Ashes had not considered that being in the Fade would change her voice, however it did make sense seeing as the Fade reflected a person’s true self.  Warily, she confessed everything.  “When I realized I couldn’t naturally create a world with a less painful outcome, I slipped into the Fade to help where I could.  If I had not shielded you, the demon would have turned you against Hawke.  You barely knew each other at that time.  He would not have forgiven your betrayal.  He…he would have handed you over to Denarius when you confronted him at the Hanged Man.”

 “Then Denarius would have used Fenris as a template for the slave army.”  Hawke spit his disgust while gliding a protective arm about Fenris’ waist.  “That is what Varania is trying to do for Gaspard.  She needs his alliance to gain approval in the Imperium to assume Denarius’ seat in the house of Magisters, and Gaspard needs her to raise a slave army to take over Orlais.”

“And…you did the same, for me.  Back in Kinloch.  I knew you were familiar but I couldn’t place it.”  Cullen began to pace anxiously, his right hand rubbing at his neck.  “Five. Weeks.  Every hour of every day I had a Despair demon whispering in my ear. Touching through my skin.  Gnawing on my mind.  I never admitted to anyone that I was possessed.”  His grim tone remained even, his darkened eyes fixed on Ashes.  “Multiple times.  Each time I had to fight, to claw my way back out of the prison it built.”

“How can you mean multiple times?!  Commander, that’s…surely you are mistaken.”  Dorian delicately offered.

Even Hawke sounded astonished.  “I wouldn’t have thought it possible either if I hadn’t just seen him warp the Fade in front of my eyes.”

Cullen ignored the comments as he stalked up to Ashes, his gaze never wavered from hers.  “You were there weren’t you?”  

Rapidly, Cole’s words pressed between Cullen’s.  “Powerless, frightened.  Make the words pierce through, seeking fortitude.  Speak over the Despair.  Block out the despair.”

“It _was_ you.”  Cullen turned to the other mages.  “It’s because of what happened at Kinloch that I knew how to break free of the demon’s hold.  I can never forget your voice.” His eyes met hers once more.  “Five weeks.  Why couldn’t you stop it?” 

Her stomach recoiled and thrust up in her throat.  Blood froze in her veins.  The pleading look in his eyes made her want to destroy the world and build anew simply to remove the hurt painted on his face. 

“Demons have no power over me, and I have none over them.  The Fade was the only place I could have influence on people.  I broke the rules with my interference when I tried to _force_ the change I wanted.  With the safeguards down, it is easier for demons to cross the Veil.  It explains Gaspard and Harella.”

Cullen’s expression snapped to confusion.  “Harella?”

Cole answered, supporting Ashes.  “I do not like her.  Despair feeds off of crushed hope. A failing Inquisition was a never-ending supply.  She didn’t want to leave.”

Laughter cut through the rising stress.  “Everything that happens to you is weird.  Alright, so what now?”

Felix offered his thoughts.  “What does it matter if we don’t succeed in this timeline?  Can’t you simply create another one?  Aren’t you a god?”

“No more than the sun is.  The sun has a duty to rise and fall with each passing day, warming the earth and nurturing life.  Its duty is immense but it is no god.”  Ashes shook her head.  “I can’t create any more.  When I was pulled here, there was nothing left behind to take my place.”

Dawning visibly struck Solas.  “This is the last chance isn’t it?  What happens here, now, is permanent.”  A heavy sigh fell from Solas as he absorbed the revelation.  “The spirits told me that there was cause for concern and now I understand why they helped me to bring you here.  They are hoping you can compensate for the broken safeguards.  The destruction of our world would resonate in the Fade and beyond.”

Dorian laughed shallowly.  “And here I thought that our problems were solely limited to sealing the breech.  Now we have to concern ourselves with avoiding the destruction of the Fade as well?”

“This changes nothing!”  Cassandra boomed over them.  “We never thought that there were other opportunities.  Second chances?  No, we continue onward.  That _thing_ is gone.  We have an Inquisitor who is concerned about the outcome of the final battle and will do what is necessary for the good of us all.  The Maker will guide us through this.”

Ashes knew that Cassandra spoke out of fear.  Fear that her faith would be challenged, fear that things would fall apart again.  Ashes steadfastly looked at each member around her, gauging their reaction.  Varric was doing the same, however he hit a conclusion before she could.  “Well, Ashes, it looks like we’re in this with you until the end.”

“No.  They don’t think that.”  Cole appeared at her side, then tilted his head like a precious little bird.  “Why?”

“Why?”  She echoed.

“They want to know why.”

She intentionally kept from looking at Cullen.  "You deserve better than to die martyrs.  In the timeline we saw, the way the world shapes itself after the destruction of the Inquisition prevents anyone else from attempting what Corypheus wishes to do.  Thedas comes out stronger than before, however the first few decades are a rough time to live in.  The final battle is brutal and costly.” 

“As amazing as I would be as Archon, I am so far removed from that position that I cannot begin to imagine how far Tevinter must have fallen for me to take on that mantle.  We were in the center of Minrathous…I never thought…it never occurred to me that the Imperium could be destroyed.  To see it like that, was…difficult.”  Dorian’s typically bold tone faltered toward the end.  “Will the changes you have made result in a victorious and sustainable outcome?”

"I don’t know, there has been too many deviations.  I cannot say for certain."  Finding courage she didn’t know remained, she lifted her head to see how they were taking her disclosure.  “I have hope that it will.”

Instantly, Cassandra supported her.  “As do I.”

“I would feel a lot more _hopeful_ if we got the fuck out of here.”  Bull ground the sentence out.  The small protection spell she used must be wearing off.

 “Solas, can you find a Spirit of Purpose?  It will know how to send us back.”

***

“Did we make it?”  Varric rose from a crouching position, leaning his weight on Bianca for support.  “Tiny, at least you’re looking normal.”

A brief scan of the area revealed that everyone looked the same as they did before the first explosion of light.  Each person was back in their original spot in the Graves before the unintentional trip through the Fade.

“Chief!”  Krem pressed through a cropping of thick bushes with more grace than one would expect of a fully armored warrior.  “Dalish and Skinner have picked up a trail, said they can move faster if it’s just the two of them.”  When he caught sight of Ashes, he gave her a curt nod.  “Inquisitor.  Good to see you are doing better.”

No one knew they had ‘left’.

“Thank you Krem.”  Nervously, Ashes wasn’t sure what to do next.  She still felt dazed, but most of all, she was thankful.  No one feared her, no one was _too_ upset at her actions.  Then she looked at Cullen.  His somber expression sent needles piercing through her heart.  _No, please no.  Not him.  I can take anyone’s anger but his._

“Inquisitor.  This way if you please.”  Cullen guided her back to the center of the main camp in the midst of a cluster of wooden shacks.  Everyone else went their separate ways, content to avoid the topic of the Fade, or anything else.  Cullen chose one of the huts, then shut the door behind them. 

Ashes took a steading breath, she felt her heartbeat pick up.  She let the memories of their ride through Orlais flood through her before his cutting words became the new nightmare she would have to endure.  _The weight of his body against hers, the sweet words brushing on her ears, none of it would never happen again._  

“I have a two questions.  First, the Qunari were in Kirkwall long enough that I picked up a few phrases.  Bull called you Kadan.  Is there anything between you?”

“No, no.  I do care for him, but it’s the same way that I care for Dorian, Varric, and the others.”  _Why did he want to know?  Is there still a chance?_   Wetting her lips, she steeled herself with a flicker of hope.  “And second?”

Intensely, his body encroached her personal space, his face remained grim.  “The Nightmare demon, it asked why you rejected those other realities.  You never answered.” 

Until her back bumped into the wall, she had been unaware she was backing away from him.  Apprehension swarmed her senses tenfold when he pressed his hand to the wall over her shoulder to bar her from moving away.  “It…it’s just a, I, I can’t…”

“It said love.  Do you love me?”

She melted at the word.  To hear him say it, she threw her heart into his delectable hands, consequences be damned.  “Maker yes.  Ever since I first met you, I wanted you.  You who are all that a good man should be.  Your spirit shines brightly in the Fade.  I’m…I’m obsessed with you Cullen.”

“And I you.  You have no idea how your voice has filled my dreams.  The way you touched my soul…you saved me, comforted me.”  He dipped in to have his lips meet hers.  It was soft, affectionate, and her complete undoing.  “I need you Ashes.”

Her hands wrapped around under his arms to clasp at his shoulder blades.  It was the only encouragement he needed.  Boldly, he reached up to run two fingers along the backside of her long ear.  Once at the tip, his fingers trailed back down while he used the merest tip of his tongue to glide the opposite direction to go along the top.

She inhaled with such intensity that her body shook and she rose up on her tiptoes to capture the sensation longer.  _“Oh- Cullen!_   How do you know about that?”

He smiled against her cheek, reluctant to answer.  “There were elves at the Rose.”

She gave him a teasing shove and shot him a playful half smile.  “Ser Cullen Rutherford solicited a whore house?”

“It…not often.  Wouldn’t you know anyway?”

“I’m sorry that I was too busy trying to figure out how to defeat Corypheus without sacrificing the Inquisition to pay attention to your sex life.”  His hold loosened and she worried that he was losing his resolve. 

Not after all this time, the countless lifetimes that made her bear witness to his torture, never comforting, never helping.  Clawing her fingers into the black leather of his armor she jerked his body flush with hers.  “That’s not important.  You are what’s important, ma vhenan.  I know you better than anyone ever could.  There is no one who stands your equal.  Maker, that you would think of me, much less want me, is more than I could ever dream.  I need you Cullen.”

He locked their mouths together, breathing harshly through his nose, refusing to break away.  His hips thrust against her while his hands began to pull at her clothing.  He stopped, finally pulling away from a kiss that left her breathless.

“If this is too fast…I…[ _sigh_ ] tell me.”  With her blood roaring through her body, stopping was out of the question.

Her fingers slid down to his tight breeches and were rewarded with a plump, hardened thickness.  No, he _really_ didn’t want to stop either.  She pulled his head close to hers to bite his ear while her other hand cupped his erection through the leather.  “Show me what they taught you.  I want it all.  I only want it from you.”

Cullen kept his face beside hers, his stubble was sand paper against her skin and sent bolts of desire through her body.  She felt his words as he spoke into the juncture of her skull and neck.  “As you desire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma lath, Mala suledin nadas. Era na’din.   
> My love, you must endure. End this dream.
> 
> Era na’din. Tel'enfenim ma sa'lath. Ma garas mir renan ara ma'athlan vhenas.   
> End this dream. Never fear my one love. Follow my voice, I will lead you home.
> 
> As though the ending wasn't a big enough hint, the next chapter will be the smutty one (finally!)


	17. *What Hath Man's Sin Wrought?  (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small bit of art to go with this one, possibly NSFW. [Pinned Down](http://sixlilypetals.deviantart.com/art/The-Graves-554444826)  
>  ****  
> 

“If this is too fast…I…[ _sigh_ ] tell me.”  With her blood roaring through her body, stopping was out of the question.

Her fingers slid down to his tight breeches and were rewarded with a plump, hardened thickness.  No, he _really_ didn’t want to stop either.  She pulled his head close to hers to nibble his ear while her other hand cupped his erection through the leather.  “Show me what they taught you.  I want it all and I only want it from you.”

Cullen kept his face beside hers, his stubble like sandpaper against her skin sent bolts of need through her body.  She felt his words as he spoke into the juncture of her skull and neck.  “As you desire.”

He pressed her shoulders firmly against the wall, implying that she stay put.  He skillfully picked apart her barely-there Tevinter servant clothing.  While his hands worked, his eyes continually darted up to meet hers.  “Ever since our night in the Healer’s annex, I felt that I already knew you.  Now I understand.” 

Toned elven flesh stood bare before the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.  She watched his eyes follow his fingertips as they ghosted over her, worshiping the beauty of her body.  He paused at her breasts and she felt a swell of pride that he approved.  Grabbing a handful he graciously sucked on one, catching her nipple between his teeth while he flicked at it with his tongue.  The other breast was equally devoured.  She watched and realized that she could see past his lust to his ardent desire.  He desired them not for what they were, but for who they belonged to.  Her lungs pulsed with hurried breathing, bringing her breasts to a sumptuous life.  Ashes pressed her head into the wall behind her and attempted to quell her need to squirm under his touch.  It was painfully difficult.

Cullen brought each hand in turn to his mouth to bite off his gloves.  The act caused her to pant open mouthed.  Placing his hands on the center of her chest, he splayed his fingers.  They ran up to her shoulders then down her arms to capture her hands.  He brought them both up to his face, never breaking eye contact.  His thumbs found a perfect home in the center of her palms, massaging them while he nibbled at her wrists. 

“ _Oh-_ ”  Keeping his slow and deliberate pace, all he afforded her was a vexing grin that promised her that there was _much_ more than this. 

“You’re teasing me.”

“Of course.  It’s for your pleasure.”  Releasing her hands, he eased himself to his knees before her.  His thumbs rubbed at the tips of her pelvic bone while his fingers kneaded her hips.  “and for my enjoyment.” Ashes nearly jumped out of her skin when he ran his tongue along the juncture of her abs and legs.  Laughing, he looked up at her.  “This one is another sensitive spot on elves.”  Turning to the other leg, he forged a trail of wet, puckering kisses that ended in a quick play of his tongue. 

“Dammit, Cullen!  I can’t take much more of this!”

“Oh, yes you can.  This is just the beginning.”   

Cullen’s hands moved further down, his thumbs pressing lightly into the inner thighs, sending shivers up her spine.  He coaxed her legs wider, encouraging her up on her toes so he could plant his face squarely in front of her pelvis.  Like all elves, she had no body hair, Cullen could see everything.  Drawing his hands up to the center of her soft pussy, his fingers slicked between her delightful folds.  With damp fingers he spread her lips wide with a reverent ‘ _aw-’_ before he set his mouth to work.  First, he ran his thumbs along the outer edges, stimulating her with the roughness of his calloused fingers.  He let his tongue caress the inside of each fold, one and then the other and then the other.  Back and forth he tasted her, teased her, adding firm pressure with sweet bites that pinched her nerves exquisitely.  A moan, a hitched sigh, even mewling like a damn kitten were among the things that Cullen made her do.  She wanted more, needed more. 

Her foot found a nearby chair and used it to prop her leg up so that she could spread her legs wider, granting Cullen easier access.  Ashes flexed her fingers and pumped her arms, unsure what to do as her body convulsed instinctively under Cullen’s skillful mouth.  He chuckled at her frustration.  “Grab at my hair, I promise it doesn’t hurt.”

Her nails dug into his scalp, his delighted moan emboldened her to tighten her grip.  The way he moved under her hands gave her the feeling that she was telling him what to do.  Each tug brought out thick growls from deep in Cullen’s chest.  It was empowering.  His long licks changed with each pass, some pressing hard, others light with only the tip of his tongue, all of them reduced her to clay in his hands.  She would do anything for him if it meant more of this bliss. 

His right hand slid up higher, catching her skin in a way that pulled the hood of her clit up with it, exposing her fully.  With an open mouth, her pushed his tongue against her while his lips met with hers.  Keeping the erotic kiss, he curved his tongue to slick up and down, then he used it to flick the tender nub mercilessly.  By now, she was dripping, her nerves raw and frayed.  Uncontrollable shakes had Cullen’s forearms pressing hard into her thighs to keep her right where he wanted her-at his mercy. 

“Are you ready?”

“Andraste’s flaming sword don’t fucking stop!!”  She’d never wanted to punch anyone so hard in her life as she did when Cullen pulled away.    

He changed to light sweeps with his tongue, pressing his cheek into her thigh.  Whatever he was going to do, he wanted to watch her reaction play out on her face.  Maker, his smile was mesmerizing.  A thumb slipped through her soaking folds then continued its journey all the way back to her tight little hole. 

“Ears, wrists, and hips are particularly sensitive for elves.  And so is here.”

Before his thumb could lose any of its moisture, he plunged it within her.  Her whole body quivered as she screamed in ecstasy.  The pleasure didn’t stop.  It built upon itself, rising higher, shooting through her spine.  Looking down she saw Cullen back at his station, giving her his full attention and somehow managing to massage within her asshole perfectly, beautifully to the point she saw stars.  Both her hands snatched clumps of hair, pulling ruthlessly as the wave of her orgasm overpowered her.  She felt as if she were exploding outward, then crumbling back in only to burst again.  A constant drum of satisfaction thumped throughout her.  Her dry mouth a testament to her surrender to the deluge.

Cullen rose quickly to press her face in his soft lapel, muffling the final gasps she couldn’t control.  “Maker’s breath!  I suppose I should have warned you.” 

She couldn’t respond.  Her body was a slave to her orgasmic high.  Labored breathing, shaking fingers, if Cullen hadn’t grabbed her, she would have fallen to the floor.  With heavy eyes, she let herself sink into Cullen’s arms.  She hummed as he stoked her hair, comforting her through this new experience.  “Cullen.”

“ _Mm?_ ”

“That was the most amazing…I can’t even put it into words.”  His chest vibrated at his subdued chuckle.  “I can’t understand why everyone doesn’t fill their days doing this.”

Pulling her into a tighter embrace, he scoffed.  “You would believe that were true if you spent any time at the barracks.”

Against her bare skin, she could feel his need jutting into her stomach.  Thoughts of lounging in his embrace were swept away.  A new hunger began to run wild, quickening her breaths and making her temperature spike.  This did not go unnoticed by Cullen who leaned his head to one side to trace feather light kisses along her ear.  Cinching her shoulders together at the intensity, she made a mental note to be _extremely_ conscious of anyone getting near her ears in public. 

Cullen took hold of her thin shoulders and guided her to lay on the floor over the discarded clothing.  Standing over her, he promptly undid the fasteners, buckles and Maker knows what else to free himself from the black armor.

“Am I correct in assuming that you are not done?”

That damned alluring smile he wore so easily made her squirm at his feet.  With a gentle laugh, he answered her.  “I don’t think I could ever be done with you.”

No longer encumbered by the foreign bits of metal, Cullen lowered himself to his knees between her quivering legs.  She couldn’t help it.  Everything about what he did to her, the simple fact that there was more he could do, it was impossible to control herself.  Starting at her thighs, he ran his eager hands up the sides of her body, coaxing her arms to rest above her head. 

He hesitated. 

“I’m…”  He swallowed hard, uncertainty shaking his voice.  “I’m going to have sex with a possessed mage.”

Doubt.  The physical intimacy was beyond her wildest expectations, but if he doubted himself, what they were doing, it was pointless.  “We don’t have to do anything.  I’ll…”

The impact of his lips against hers halted her thoughts.  He pressed so hard she could feel his teeth behind the skin and opened her mouth to release the pressure.  The kisses became open mouth gulps with his tongue plunging almost to the root of her tongue.  The viciousness of his wanton impulse sent her hands flying to his body.  Now, she felt the flush of want take over his body while her fingers dug into his battletested muscles.  She swooned when they rippled under her touch each time he moved. 

She whimpered when he pulled away to hover over her on all fours, panting, the frantic desire still white hot in his eyes.  “I’m going to have sex with the mage who possesses my heart and a Spirit deserving of my unyielding adoration.” 

All of his weight shifted to one hand as he reached down between them with the other to guide his thick cock where she needed it.  Hesitation surfaced again with his tip dribbled on her, she could feel it drip over the curve of her pussy, teasing her mercilessly.  She watched his emotions fighting against a lifetime of Chantry education.  This was more than a quick tumble in a whorehouse, more than sneaking kisses from a mage in dark corners.  This was full-blown sin. 

Ashes closed her eyes and kept as still as possible.  This was his decision and she wouldn’t force him. 

It wasn’t long before she gasped in surprise at how her body protested his intrusion.  He bucked his hips again to fight back against her natural tightness.  Even with the stinging sensation, she wanted more, her craving for him near bursting with the knowledge that he chose her.  She stared down between them, watching him piston in and out at an agonizing pace. 

_Breathe, don’t forget to breathe!_

He was trying to be slow, but his instincts were beginning to override his willpower.  Cullen’s shoulders shook at the unwanted use of restraint, his hands trembling.   “Ashes, I can’t.  Maker!  You feel incredible!”  Another enthused thrust put him balls-deep and was followed with him grinding against her, rubbing against every hypersensitive spot her cunt had to offer, both in and out.  

Jerking, bucking, their bodies slid together, their impassioned sweat easing the friction.  Cullen’s moans are low and raw, like a tame animal finally regressing to its savage nature.  Both of them were starved for each other, pent up angst destroying any barriers, demolishing any reservations they felt.

“Cullen I can feel… ** _Oh-don’t stop! Please, make me!  Make me come!_** ”  At her words, Cullen snapped free of his self-imposed leash.  He pressed her wrists together tightly over her head, feasted on her mouth and rutted into her without reserve. 

Black flashes popped into her vision.  Earlier, it had been sweet sensual waves that coursed through her, now, it came upon her in a flaming rampage, crushing her delicate nerves, punching a lustful moan from her lungs.  It was unbearable, fulfilling, and deliciously intoxicating. 

Cullen managed to increase his pace, driving her orgasm back through her with each feral plunge.  In moments, Cullen roared harsh above her with one final deep drive.  A hot jet stream shot loose within her, seeping out around Cullen’s magnificent cock, the muscles of her pussy instinctively trying vainly to milk more from him. 

Under the sweaty sheen, his skin prickled in tiny goose bumps that eventually faded.  Gasps, grunts and agonizing groans fell from his open mouth while he peppered her salty breasts with admiring kisses.

“Alright, that was slightly embarrassing.” 

She loved how his face could flush, his genuine spirit shining through. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up to have her lips lay her devotion upon him, speaking in between caresses.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled, then returned her kisses with his own on her shoulder.  “It usually isn’t so quick.  Next time will be much better.”  He moved to her ear, once more licking its length but ending with a sweet bite at the tip.  “A lot slower and a bit more of _everything_.  We will not sleep, spending the entire night enjoying each other.  You won’t be able to walk for days.”

Before she could answer, the door swung open with enough force that it banged against the wall.  “Commander, Seeker Cassandra has asked…”  A messenger walked through the doorway but froze in place once he saw the pile of clothing and entwined bodies. 

Cullen moved as though he was going to pounce on the poor recruit and soundly rip him in half.  She guessed that his nudity saved the blighter’s life.  Instead, Cullen shouted from the luxury of her supple thighs, Ashes turning her head to hide her laugh.  “Void take you Jim!  **Get out!** ”

Swiftly, Jim left and pulled the door shut behind him.  A moment’s silence then the messenger called through the door.  “Seeker Cassandra has asked to have a War Council in twenty minutes, Ser.”

**“Fine.  Go!”**

*******

_Moron!  Who doesn’t knock?  Why in the Void hadn’t he knocked?!_   Jim hated himself.  He has already been reassigned from another duty, twice, due to his inability to get things right.  Surely being a messenger can’t be so difficult.  With a resigned sigh, he trudged onward.  The last persons he needed to inform were Garrett Hawke and his lover.  This time, Jim took a moment to knock on the door to the cabin his instructions had directed him to. 

A male voice called from the other side.  “Yes?  What is it?”

 _Excellent, I got this one right.  No mistakes this time._   He assumed the stern decorum that befit an Inquisition soldier and firmly pressed on the door to admit himself.

He couldn’t move his legs.  Horror had him frozen in place, his task forgotten at the prospect of having walking in on not only the Commander and the Inquisitor but now the Champion of Kirkwall as well.  The terrifying elven warrior was laid naked on a table with the Champion, who also wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, still pumping into him from between his legs, entirely heedless of Jim’s intrusion.

_Maker have mercy and strike me dead._

“You got something to say boy?!  Spit it out!”  The Champion, the blighted Champion of Kirkwall was yelling at him.  Oh Maker, the murder that swirled in his eyes should have given him a heart attack.  He begged to Holy Andraste that it would. 

Hawke decided to fill the silence.  “Why don’t you make yourself useful and come fondle my balls if you want to stare so bad?”

“W-w-war C-council, twenty minutes!”  Scrambling for the exit Jim tripped over himself before he was safely outside the cabin and holding the door closed.  On the other side, he heard the two men toss insults before resuming their copulation. 

“Fucking southerners”

“Filthy southerners”

Jim rushed away from the cabin to inform the Seeker that he had completed his task.  He mocked his family and every friend who ever put the fool idea in his head that this was a good decision.  “Join the Inquisition they said, it’ll be fun they said.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snippet of Jim being well, Jim is inspired by this work written by TheLadyOrTheTiger
> 
> [Join the Inquisition They Said](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774742)  
> I highly recommend it as it’s a great, light-hearted read.


	18. The Grand Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of rape

Josephine Montilyet arrived at Skyhold before the main party returned from the Emerald Graves.  She only had a few traveling necessities as the rest of her personal effects would arrive in a few days’ time.  Skyhold had changed drastically since she had last been there.  The gallows had been torn down, soldiers went about their jobs instead of idle mercenaries tossing lecherous glares.  As she stepped down from her carriage, a woman with a small handful of servants greeted her.

“My Lady Montilyet.  I am Mistress Chalet, Head of Staff for the whole of Skyhold.  I have been instructed to see to your every need as you settle into your new quarters and position as Ambassador to the Inquisition.”  At her slight hand gesture, the servants methodically retrieved her few pieces of luggage and carted them off into the main castle. 

Mistress Chalet led Josephine through the great hall to the Inquisitor’s office, which was surprisingly bare.  Nothing remained, not even the furniture.

“This will be your office for work and to receive dignitaries.  I have not had any furniture brought in as I thought you might like to pick out those which suit you best.”

“Mistress!  There’s a problem in the kitchens!”  The small boy was out of breath and unable to provide more details. 

“Please excuse me Lady Ambassador.” 

Left alone in the bare room, the fire in the hearth didn’t reach her, only the chill of painful memories.

_This…this was foolish.  How could I let the Empress talk me into this?_

Tears welled in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them at bay.  Closing them tight to shut out the vision of the room only made her memories resurface in full-blown detail.  Harella’s harsh words, the feel of the duchess snaking, unwelcome hands all over her body, it was overwhelming. 

_“I beg your pardon duchess, that is uncalled for. Please release me.”_

_The duchess didn’t answer, only the stone-cold monster that they had unwisely handed power.  Power which she abused, just like her people._

_“This is what Ambassadors are for.  You need to meet the wants of our allies so the Inquisition can get the influence it needs.”_

_“Inquisitor, please.  This is not right, I…”_

_“ **I am the one who says what is right!** ”_

_Ripped clothing, the sting from a slap, air punched from lungs to silence screams, wrists raw from struggling, violating fingers followed by debasing tongues.  Revulsion.  Belittlement.  That was the last day she spent with the Inquisition._

The flood of remembered pain opened scars she had once thought were sealed away.  With a  delicate hand over her mouth she ran from the room, racing to find fresh air.  She stopped herself from falling down the main stairway at the entrance to the great hall by bracing a hand on the doorway.  She clutched at the uncaring stone as she bit into the meat of her hand to squash her sobs.  _This was a mistake._

 Dread replaced her regret when she heard the horns sound.  Josephine would never forget that sound.  A sickening fear churned her stomach knowing that it signaled the arrival of the Inquisitor.  From where she stood, she could look down and see the main gate, her heart raging in her chest as the gates slowly raised to let the party enter.

The Inquisitor was the first to enter, her hair braided loosely and one of her eyes bloodied from a poorly healed wound and her vallaslin gone.  She almost looked like a different person.  Awed surprise pushed her closer to the edge to clearly see what she thought was impossible.  The Iron Bull, the Chargers, Dorian Pavus, and some other Tevinter were with them.  Everyone was well at ease, laughing talking, joking as they all made their way to the stables.  _Well, this is certainly unexpected._

Since the Inquisitor was on Cullen’s horse, she waited with him as the group of soldiers and new recruits began to organize near the training yard.  Among the soldiers under guard were two men were shackled and being led to the guest wing of the castle. 

As the crowd thinned from soldiers breaking off to perform duties, Josephine finally saw Michel.  Steeling herself, she gracefully, measuredly, made her way to face the Inquisitor.  She refused to show any weakness now, Michel needed her and she couldn’t bear to think what horror Harella  might conjure up for him.  Josephine was thankful that she was approaching them from behind, it gave her a few extra precious moments to prepare her greeting before she was noticed. 

Only a few steps away, most of the soldiers had been dismissed, leaving Michel’s guard and one messenger speaking to Cullen, handing off reports.  Once the messenger was gone, Josephine watched as the Commander pushed the Inquisitor with his shoulder, she stumbled to a nearby stonewall.  Cullen twisted to trap her to the spot, a playful grin began on his face, but disappeared quickly as he bent down to capture her laugh with a deep kiss.  He did more than taste, he drank her in while his hands slid down her sides to rest on her waist, pulling their bodies flush together. 

Josephine wasn’t sure what to do next.  Panic, scream, flee, vomit - everything was crashing down on her so swiftly she was speechless. 

 _By the Maker what has she done to him?_  

Josephine was at Haven when the archdemon attacked.  She was knocked over by a fireball, huddled with the pilgrims in the chantry certain they faced death and yet, that moment of fear paled in comparison to how terrified she was now. 

How was it possible that Harella had managed to blackmail the others to return?

What spell had she used to turn Cullen into a infatuated pet? 

Josephine felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to burst forth.  Before, she had some comfort that she at least had allies in Cullen and Leliana, but now, she lost one.  Cullen broke away from the Inquisitor’s affections when he noticed Josephine a few feet away.   Josephine was heartbroken at the happiness she saw in Cullen, knowing all of it was a lie, a delusion that Harella had forced on him.

_She’s killed him.  Andraste preserve me, she’s killed his spirit for the sake of a having an unthinking puppet._

“Lady Ambassador!  You’ve made it!”  Cullen closed the gap to sweep her up in a quick friendly embrace.  “By the Maker, you are looking well.  Welcome back!” 

Each cheerful word was an icy shard that sliced into her, making her voice difficult to find, yet she was proud of the even tone she managed.  “It is a pleasure to see you again, Commander.  Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor reached her hand out to Josephine, a warm smile that almost seemed genuine.  “Madame Ambassador.  I hope you don’t mind if we dive right into business in an hour or so?  We’ve had a lot happen over the past few days and we need to regroup to figure out how to proceed.”

Perfect.  As the Empress had hoped, Josephine would be blended back into the folds of advisor, just as before.  Surprisingly, the Inquisition was gaining influence and power in a manner that threatened the Empire and worried Celene.  It was up to Josephine to ensure that there weren’t any more unexpected occurrences that would further embarrass the Empress. 

“As you wish Your Worship.  If I may, where shall my fiancé be ensconced for the duration of our obligation?”

Cullen’s tone shifted to one of strict business.  “Michel de Chevin has confessed to crimes that the Inquisition is willing to overlook in exchange for your cooperation.  However, as he is a man of honor, he is placed on house arrest and free to move about Skyhold with a two man guard.”

“House arrest?  Those other two men I saw, are they under the same restrictions?”

“No.  The Champion and Fenris are confined to quarters.  It is only by the thinnest of considerations for their contributions to the city of Kirkwall that I am allowing it.  Fenris made a second attempt on my life and Hawke injured the Inquisitor when he became involved.”  Cullen sneered at the whole situation, giving the impression that he thought the behavior of both men childish.  “Varric is working through some contacts to have them shipped out of here, back to Kirkwall or possibly the Free Marches.  Have no worries, Ambassador, they will not cause any more trouble.  They understand that one more incident will have them locked in the dungeon under charges.”

Josephine merely nodded.  He spoke so smoothly, confident, easy, just like he was before the conclave.  The bitterness that Harella had planted within him had been uprooted and replaced with this shell of a person.  “If it all the same to you, I would like to escort Michel to our quarters and then join you in the War Room at the appointed time.  Your Worship.”

Josephine executed the slightest of curtsies before turning on heel to get away from the unnerving encounter.  She prayed to the Maker and Holy Andraste that the Inquisitor had not gotten to Leliana yet.  Flanked by soldiers, she and Michel made their way in silence to the upper guest wing that Josephine had gleefully abandoned months ago.  The guards took up posts outside their door and once they were in private, Josephine fell into Michel’s arms.

“Oh, Michel!  I was so worried for you!”  She pushed away to inspect his whole body, but still gripped his shoulders, needing the comfort of his presence.  “Are you alright?  Did she do anything to you?”

“No.  I am fine.”  The despondency in his voice was like a knife through the heart.  She had done something and he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Alright.  Maybe you’ll tell me later?” 

“I…maybe.”  Michel twisted gently out of her hold to walk to the window, opening it to look beyond the stained glass.  “The Inquisitor is a dangerous woman.  I’m so sorry that I dragged you into this.  It’s just that she…I…I can’t.”

Instantly, Josephine was at his side, guiding him to the bed to sit together.  “I know better than anyone what type of woman the Inquisitor is.  As unpleasant as this may be, we must endure it.  I have been given instructions from Celene to find a crack in the Inquisition that she can exploit to bury it for good.  I will ensure that the Inquisitor does not survive this final confrontation to rebuild again.”  Drawing Michel to lean against her breast, stroking his hair, she reaffirmed her purpose.  “I will make sure she pays for what she has done to us.”

They sat in mutual comfort for a while before Michel eventually drifted to sleep.  Carefully disentangling herself, Josephine lightly padded to the door.  In the hall, she looked up and down the hallway, trying to decide where to search for Leliana first.  She chose a direction and turned a corner in such a hurry that she bumped into an elven servant who dropped an armful of linens.

“Oh!  My sincerest apologies my Lady!  I did not see you coming.”

“No, no, it was my fault.  Please let me help you.”  Josephine felt terrible, but then she thought to make the best of the situation.  “Perhaps you can help me.  I’m looking for Sister Leliana.  Would you know where I can find her this time of day?”

“Let me think…after midday, but before call to services…um, I believe she will be in the lower dungeons.  She makes visits there almost daily now.”

“The dungeons?”

“Yes my lady.  She interrogates the Wardens that the Commander captured.  The rumor around the castle is that they were practicing blood magic, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

With a conspiratorial grin, Josephine thanked the servant, shaking off the feeling that she was very familiar.  Of course she was, she must be one of the few who made the trek from Haven.  The servant gone in one direction, Josephine in the other, it was only a few short minutes for her to reach the dungeons.  As an Ambassador seeking out the Nightingale, no one questioned her reasons to enter the dungeons. 

It felt odd to see all of the cells empty.  Josephine could remember when there were talks of expanding the cells further into the mountain to keep the Inquisitor from executing the ‘excess’ prisoners.  A grim faced soldier led Josephine to the deepest section, the isolation chambers.  He remained at the doorway, not uttering a word as Josephine took careful steps into the dark space.  The smell coming from inside was intense.  She delicately pulled out a handkerchief to try and block out as much of the offensive odor as possible.  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she felt death draw around her, covering her like a slimy, unwanted cloak.  Taking in her surroundings, she may never have a decent night’s sleep ever again. 

“I know you’re there.  Let me finish this.”  The ancient, frail looking mage stood beside a table with a Warden chained to the posts.  Black, tainted blood oozed inexplicably from his skin like sweat.  The head swiveled, mouth agape in an agonized scream.  No sound.  With a careful eye, Josephine saw that the man’s windpipe had been crushed to prevent any noise. 

Suddenly she was shoved out of the room, nearly falling over her dress.  “What are you doing down here?”  Leliana’s tone was harsh, but her expression softened when she recognized her old friend.  “Josephine!”

When they hugged, Josephine didn’t want to let go.  She wanted to bury her face in Leliana’s soft shoulder and erase the scene she just witnessed.  The trials of the day were catching up to her and Josephine began to shake, her voice trembling.  “Blessed Andraste, what is going on in there?”

“ _Shh_ , it’s alright, it’s alright.”  The calm melodic words of the bard washed over Josephine, easing her tension.  “This mage is working to find a way to remove the Mark from the Inquisitor and give it to someone else.”

It was too much.  Josephine’s strength gave out, Leliana guiding her to a chair.  “Remove it?  Even Corypheus was unable to do so.”

“He didn’t have the opportunity to experiment and study as I have.”  Leliana paced around Josephine as she came to grips with the surprising development.  “You may have noticed that things around here are different.  The Inquisitor has changed her tune, so to speak, but we both know that is a lie.”

Leliana arched a brow at Josephine for confirmation, to which she bobbed her head enthusiastically.  “I don’t know what she has done to Michel, but he refuses to talk to me about it.  I can’t bear to watch her ruin him as she done Cullen.”

“So, it has gotten worse between them.  I feared as much.”  Leliana turned her back to Josephine, back turned, her words echoed through the chamber clearly.  “I can't allow her to have power over us like before.  This will give us a way out.  Surely you understand my reasoning."

Josephine was still hesitant.  "But, to experiment on people..."

"Wardens have always sacrificed themselves for a good cause.  If she returns to her old ways, this will save many.”  Leliana turned to crouch before Josephine, holding tight to her hands.  “I do not want you to suffer any more at her hand.  I will protect you."

Josephine sniffed back threatening tears, returning the squeeze of her hands, thankful that she had at least one friend left in the Inquisition. 

Leliana smiled up at her, eyes reassuring, trusting.  “Come along then.  I believe we are expected at the War Council.”

 

The dynamic at the War Table had changed significantly since the last time Josephine stood by the immensely detailed map of southern Thedas. 

“We must address the instability in Orlais.  Gaspard is seeking an alliance with Tevinter and Celene is in talks with Antiva.  We can’t allow things to escalate or there will be no one left.”  Cullen was direct, matter of fact.  He rubbed at his neck, a quirk that Josephine had missed.  “A difficulty we face is that the army has gone through a significant change with the removal of all the mercenaries and the addition of the Fairbanks’ people.”

Picking up his line of thought, the Inquisitor finished.  “So, we can’t stage an offensive against any of the powers involved.  What if we brought them here?  Try and work out some sort of negotiation.”

Josephine saw an opening and seized it.  “The Empress had similar thoughts as well.  She was planning on having an extravagant ball to celebrate the occasion, but no plans have been started since all attempts to reach out to Gaspard have failed.  However, the Inquisition may present a tempting, exotic offer.  He may see it as an opportunity to catch Celene off her guard and accept.”

The Inquisitor chewed on a finger, turning over a thought before sharing it.  “That might work.  Fenris and Hawke should be gone by then, so we won’t have to worry about them ruining any plans.”

Leliana almost hid her surprise.  “The Champion disapproves of working towards a truce?”

The Inquisitor scoffed with a mild laugh.  “To put it mildly.  His boyfriend was treated poorly by Magisters so they both vehemently opposed even approaching Gaspard, which has led to their current incarceration.”

With an irritated sigh, Cullen supplemented, “You cannot be so dismissive of what was done to him when he was a slave.  You have no idea the appalling way he was treated for years.”  The Inquisitor shot him a scolding look, causing him to take a step back.  "Although I understand how he feels, that does not excuse his actions.  I still stand by your judgment Ashes.”

“Thank you Cullen.”  She returned her attention to Josephine.  “So, a ball at Skyhold?  Do you think you could pull it off?”

Josephine’s mind began to ignite at the possibilities to turn things in her favor.  Her smirk of confidence won over the room.  “As if there were any reason to doubt, Your Worship.”

***

An elven rogue with a pile of random linens waited for the Ambassador to leave her quarters. 

A dwarf, hidden by stealth, followed the expected golden ruffles to the dungeons.  Once she and the Spymaster left, he went to speak with an old friend.

The friendly mage invited one of his hulking guards into his room for a game of Wicked Grace. 

At the dusk shift change, the massive Qunari guard went to give a regular report to the Commander of the Inquisition.  Inside Cullen’s office, the doors were shut, bolted, and the loft double-checked for intruders before either said a word. 

“Did they buy off on the angry elf crap?”

“I believe so.  The incident before we left is still fresh in people’s minds, adds some credibility.  What have you heard?”

“You might want to sit down.  You’re not gonna believe this shit.”


	19. Returning Memories (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but hopefully worth the wait.

Ashes found her query in the rotunda.   “Solas?  May we talk?”

“Of course, Halani.”  Solas led the way down a winding staircase.  After two floors, he branched off toward the archives.  No one would be there and if anyone did arrive, they could easily send the off until they were finished.  Ashes smiled at the smell of musty parchment, it was so exotic and different from anything that she experienced with her clan. 

That was the problem.

Once the door was shut, she spilled into her dilemma.  “I am afraid.  I’m starting to have memories that don’t belong, others are fading away.  I’m worried it means that she is coming back.”

A new intensity swept over Solas that she might have called fear if he hadn’t hidden it so quickly with purpose.  He cast a spell over her, she could feel the warm glow seep through her skin and wind its way through her muscles to tickle at the bones beneath. 

“You are changing.  The taint of the Void is not as bright, you are more elf than you were Spirit.  It’s possible that you will become entirely mortal.  This may be a natural change that is to be expected with the prolonged use of this body.”

“Memories coming, stacking on old, crushing, crashing, familiar but frightening.  They are hers and they are strong.”

Solas was thankful for Cole’s well-timed appearance.  “Cole, can you detect any change in our Inquisitor?” 

Cole was silent briefly, considering his subject.  “You are not her, but you are becoming more you.  The ribbon that holds you to the Void, it is coming undone.”

Ashes, let go a sigh of relief.  “Oh, good.  I was worried…”

“I hear her sometimes.”

Solas and Ashes turned on Cole instantly, he did not react to the sudden apprehension in the air. 

“Whispers, waiting, laughing behind the mask.  Soon.”

“Where is she hiding Cole?  Is it the Fade?  Is Harella still in me?”  Panic flung the questions in a hurry, desperate for an answer, a means to prevent that abomination from ever returning.

Cole shook his head, a gesture exaggerated by his wide brimmed hat.  “I can’t tell.  It’s…muddled…quiet.  When I hear her, I look but she is gone.” 

Ashes, stumbled to a wall for support, her hand thankful for the cool touch that grounded her in reality.  Solas came to her side for reassurance.  “We are not helpless in this matter.  Cole can hear her, surely that will prevent her from taking over your body without our knowing.  We will protect you.”

 _This can’t be happening, not when everything was finally going so well._ She felt as though she were making sandcastles in her hands, the foundations crumbling to dust as the sand slipped through her fingers.  Pinching her eyes shut tight, she took a few steading breaths, digging for the resolve that she would need.

She gave him a weak smile, “Thank you Solas.”

At that, he returned her smile with more confidence than she felt before returning to his sanctuary in the rotunda.  Ashes stayed, braced against the wall, waiting for this footfalls to disappear completely.

“Cole.  If Harella ever takes control of my body I want you to promise that you will kill me.”

***

She found Cullen in Josephine’s office, exchanging notes, preparing security checks for the growing guest list, and arguing over the guard’s uniforms.  They hadn’t noticed her entrance until she let an amused giggle escape. 

“Inquisitor, you have arrived just in time.  We are having a small debate on the necessity of proper attire during formal affairs that have an impact of national importance.”  Josephine’s posture stiffened, prepared for a verbal battle.

Ashes only shrugged with indifference.  “I can see the value in making a good impression.”

“Ashes!  You can’t be serious!  My men are not dolls meant for dressing up in Orlesian lace!”

Ashes covered her mouth with her hand, but it didn’t help.  Her laughter filtered through in bubbling bursts that caught Josephine by surprise, even making her crack a smile.  “Oh, Cullen!  You sound like a child who doesn’t want to share his toys!”

Both women erupted into jovial laughter, fueled by the Commander’s reddening face.  Not wanting to make it worse, Ashes quickly closed the distance between them to place a sweet kiss on his lips, her fingers lingering on his jaw.  “I’m sure we can compromise having only the soldiers on duty nearest to the activities wear something more ceremonial” under his glower, she amended her statement. “ _and_ functional for the sake of appearances.”

Rolling his eyes in irritation, he caved.  “They must be protected and able to execute their duties.”

He looked to Josephine who nodded smartly, her mood easy and confident.  “Rest easy Commander.  I will let you have final approval of the chosen uniform.” 

They all turned when Leliana came from the Grand Hall.  “There you are.”

Josephine’s expression brightened at the sight of her longtime friend.  “Leliana, we were getting into an excellent discussion on which uniforms to outfit the ranks for the upcoming ball.”

“I’m pleased that things are going so smoothly Josephine.  I’m certain whatever you choose shall be resplendent.”  Turning to face Cullen, Leliana spoke over Ashes who remained at his side.  “Commander, I was hoping that I could persuade you to allow my people to take over prisoner duty in the dungeons.  With only the Wardens housed there, it makes sense to use those within my network since interrogations will also be done under my watch.”

Cullen thought only briefly, “I don’t believe there is any issue with that.  I’m certain the guards will actually be glad to have that location taken off of the rotation.”

“Thank you Commander.”  Without ever acknowledging the Inquisitor, Leliana left just as quickly as she came. 

This slight did not go unnoticed by Josephine who waited for some reaction from Ashes.  Ashes wasn’t sure what the Ambassador expected, so she simply went about her own business. 

“It’s getting late.  I think that I will go to bed, unless you need anything from me Ambassador?”

Josephine was visibly taken aback that the Inquisitor was subtly asking for permission to leave, or even offering help.  “I…uh…no.  No, thank you Inquisitor.  I believe that I can handle the rest on my own.”

Cullen grumbled low, but not low enough to prevent Josephine from hearing.  “Good.  All of this politicking and posturing is giving me a headache.”

“Smile Commander.”  Josephine began tidying her notes as she graced him with a wicked smile.  “You will need to be in practice before the real posturing begins.”

Cullen groaned mournfully at the thought while Ashes tugged on his hand to follow her out the door.  “Good night Ambassador.  Thank you for all your help.”

Josephine gave a polite bow, “You are quite welcome Inquisitor.”

***

“First I get a disturbing report form Bull, then I’m dragged into Josephine’s office.  It’s all completely useless.  I don’t see why we have to accommodate them in such a ridiculous manner.  This is exactly why…”

Standing within the Inquisitor’s quarters, Cullen was still ranting about his meeting with Josephine spoiling the evening, going into further detail about the other concessions he had to make and the few items he refused to budge on.  He was methodically removing his armor piece by piece, as he rambled on about the Great Game. 

Ashes couldn’t focus on his words.  Watching the layers peel off his muscular frame was appetizing, especially since she knew exactly why he had followed her to her quarters.  He was here for her, to _take her._   She wet her lips as her eyes raked over him, finally settling at the bulging juncture of his breeches. 

“Ashes?  Are you even listening to me?”  Cullen was leaning to one side with a lowered head trying to meet her eyes.

“Oh!  I’m sorry, I was distracted.”  Their eyes met, only briefly before hers drifted once again.  Taking a step forward, she reached for him.  “Let me finish.”

Cullen let his hands fall to his sides, turning the palms to face her, holding his arms open in an inviting gesture.  She pulled the hem of his shirt out of his breeches, delighting in how his breath hitched as her cold fingers slipped under the loose fabric.  She whispered a small spell that made her fingers radiate heat, Cullen let his head fall backward with a satisfied moan.

Shirt removed, her pulse quickened while she sucked in a breath, amazed at the beautiful man who stood proud before her.  Her fingertips began to ghost over his skin, starting at his wrists, flowing over the swells of his biceps, shoulders, and pecs, before succumbing to the animal within her and capturing a nipple in her mouth.  She teased him with her teeth and tongue, elated at how he would lose his footing when she did it just right. 

Her mouth didn’t want to leave, it kept searching, wanting to explore every delicious bite of this magnificent man. 

“Lower.”  Husky and deep, he commanded.

Smiling into his sternum, she obeyed, following a shrinking trail of golden chest hair to the center of his stomach, her tongue darted into his bellybutton.  A sweet single laugh from him made her look up, finding that seductive smirk that made her drip with desire.

Her fingers squeezed at his hips, one of his knees trembled, she could hear him try to swallow the dryness out of his mouth.  This time, his tone asked.  “Please.  Lower.”

Holding on at the waist of his breeches, she came to rest on her knees.  Her hands migrated to his perfectly muscled ass to pull him right against her face, mouthing at the growing erection hidden beneath the leather.  In this moment, she felt the change, felt him shift from wanting her to **needing** her.  Keeping her mouth busy tormenting him, her hands slid over his study thighs to eventually land on the seam of his trousers, plucking and pulling at the laces.  

Her work done, he fell free, heavy, her lips ready to catch his throbbing cock.  She ran her tongue from tip to base while pushing the last of his clothes off, chills sparking through her spine.

Cullen was right, slower was much, _much_ better. 

“Sweet Maker!  Yes!”  His cries filled the room when she suddenly swallowed him whole, using her lips to add pressure along his length.  He continued to swell in her mouth as she chose a nice easy rhythm, sucking and scraping with her tongue.  She loved feeling the power that she held over him.  Longing for more, she began using her hand and quickened the pace.  Intermittently, when she bobbed her head, she pulled him out completely, taking delight in forcing his tip through her tight lips, then pushing him to the back of her throat.  Excitement coursed through her in full force with each sigh, every whisper, and groan that fell from Cullen’s lips.    

Another tremor sent rough hands pushing on her shoulders, holding her back.  “I can’t last much longer if you keep at that.”

“Ah-ha!”  She poked him in the shoulder.  “You owe Hawke a drink.”

“You learned that from Hawke!?  I’ll _kill_ him for talking to you like that.”

“Ooo!   Now you owe Fenris a drink!”

“I’ll show you who needs a drink.”  He scooped her up easily, her cheerful laugh melting his anger.  As he carried her to the bed, she noticed a bottle of wine and a glass on the nightstand and couldn’t remember where it came from. 

After setting her down, he poured himself a drink, gesturing with glass in hand.  “Remove your clothes.”

The casual outfit fell from her easily, hurriedly under his darkened expression, greedy with anticipation, his heated stare inflaming her blood. 

He placed a full glass in her hand, his body towering over her, the scruff of his jaw scraped nicely on her shoulder when he spoke.  “Lay down on your stomach.”

She followed his order, propping her chest up on her elbows to finish her drink.  Cullen stood at the edge of the bed between her dangling feet.  Kneeling, he laid kisses on her ankles, calves, and behind her knees while his hands worshiped her lithe physique.    

At the top of her legs, he gave extra care to the bottom of her ass, pressing his face against her smooth skin.  Rubbing the roughness of his face against her thigh made her breath catch, so he does it more, adding long licks that ended in wet kisses.

Twisting her head to watch him, she is entranced by every little thing he does.  Cullen hovered over her, hands sinking into the bed at her sides.  Trailing his nose from the bottom curve of her ass, up to the base of her spine where he goes in for a kiss, pressing his hot tongue on those sensitive nerves.  Ashes let out a throaty groan, long, and drawn out, which pleased him. 

Cullen laid down, turning her on a side, spooning behind her.  She eagerly propped a leg up on his waist, spreading her wet heat wide for him.  He cradled her neck with one hand and held on to her abdomen with the other, his hips undulating to have his dripping arousal rub exquisitely against her desperate cunt.  He had easy access to her mouth, neck and breasts. 

“Cullen.  Look.”  She nodded at the new full-length mirror that she had moved earlier in the day to the edge of the bed.  Another of Hawke’s enthusiastic suggestions.

Cullen was absolutely fascinated, the angle was perfect.  They both watched, Cullen using the mirror to guide his shaft to her entrance.  Ragged gasps filled her ears while he stared over her shoulder to witness as he eased, slowly, shallowly into her, never missing a second of the erotic vision reflected in the mirror.

Ashes pressed her head back into Cullen’s shoulder, happy with the agonizing bliss of him slipping his tip in and out, over and over again.  It was torture to feel the promise but never the full brunt of his pulsating prick.

Laid wide open and soaked from his foreplay, he finally slides in all the way, pressing firmly against her.  Pausing balls deep, he kisses the nape of her neck.  Smooth, gentle waves of his coming and going made her body squirm, control freely given to her lover. 

In raspy gasps, Cullen adored her.  “Ashes, you are so wonderfully wet for me.”  He thrust slightly harder. 

_Slam_

“Do you think of this?”  

_Slam_

“Do you crave this?”

_Slam_

Sweet mewls became intense cries, calling out for more in rising incoherent screams.

A rumbling growl before a snicker puffed into her hair, a hand coiled around her throat.  “Do I give you pleasure?”

“Yes!  Always!”  A new thrill washed through her when she could feel her words vibrate in his grip.  His subtle pace was fucking beautiful and she could see her essence slicking over him, easing his labor, seeping down her thigh. 

Cullen cupped her breast to his mouth as if he were drinking water from a stream.  He licked circles around her nipple before sucking on it, still managing to flick it with his tongue between breaths.  She arched into him with a whimper.  Everything was exquisitely sensuous and each touch burnt into her core, falling to tingle in her pussy. 

A flash of inspiration sparked on his face as he sat up on his knees, withdrawing from her.  He maneuvered to straddle her leg and bring the other to rest against his shoulder.  He kept his hand low on her stomach, adding a small amount of pressure each time he filled her.  In this position, he has a better angle to plunge even deeper, pulling on her leg to ensure he fills her to the hilt.  The easy rhythm lets him grace her ankle with delicate kisses. 

“Every inch of you tastes like summertide.”  Even the cadence of his voice followed the sensual pace of his languid thrusts. “Sunshine, crystal grace, Maker’s breath you are ethereal.”

She looks to the mirror again, gasping as she can watch the muscles of his buttocks ripple perfectly each time he impaled her.  “Oh!  Fuck yes, just like that!”

Following her gaze, he found her sudden fascination and he intentionally flexed his thighs, his arms, even his stomach turns into a slab of rigid muscle.  She forgot how to breathe watching the powerful beast of a man driving into her, using her to fulfill his primal desire.

“Harder.”

“No.”

“ _Please_ , Commander.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Cullen!”  In a swift move of great force and grace, she managed to push up and pin him beneath her.  He had fallen out, his hasty hand rushed down to correct the problem.  Instead, she grabbed his wrists and placed his hands by his head, their fingers interlocking.  Holding him there, she swayed her hips up and down, letting her pussy slick over his throbbing cock that was trapped against his stomach.  Cullen dug his head into the bed, groaning in frustration at the tease. 

“No more Cullen.  You’re done.”  His eyes snapped open at her statement.  His expression frightened.  She felt terrible, but her first reaction was to laugh at him.  Leaning forward to capture his lips with hers, she devoured him in hungry kisses, their tongues lapping marvelously between each one. 

“You’re done being gentle.  I need you to fuck me.  Rut into me hard.  Make me scream.  Make me come for you.” 

Cullen pounded into her ruthlessly, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of her hips.  They would leave marks she would enjoy later.  He held her, hovering over him as he pistoned into her at a frenzied pace, her breasts bouncing as she arched backward slightly, giving Cullen her body as tribute, praying she pleased him. 

When his pace changed to luscious, deep pulses, he commanded her in a voice reserved for the training ring.  “Get down here, **now**.”

She fell forward onto his hard chest, her mouth tracing sweat trails.  He bucked against her, hitting a delicate spot within her while his pelvis rubbed deliciously against her clit.

“Oh, fuck, yes!  Do that again!”  She rolled her hips in time with him, both of their bodies grinding together easily with their moist skin.  “Give it to me.  I need you.  _Cullen please_!”

When she felt his hot seed spill within her, she surrendered to her own shattering spasms of ecstasy rushing through her.  Her whole body convulsed with each wave as Cullen writhed beneath her legs, the muscles of her cunt flexed instinctively in delightful pulses around his still hard member.  With her hands on his chest, his hands still planted firmly on her hips, they continued to softly rock in the final moments of their shared pleasure.  Staring at each other, struggling for breath, both had the same question written on their face.

_Was it good for you?_

Cullen twisted and reached for the nearest bit of clothing for her to use to clean up.  After she tossed the soiled scrap across the room, with an amused grin, she plopped down next to Cullen, her head in the crook of his shoulder, her body molding to his.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your plans, but you’re so _…[passionate sigh]..._ sexy, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Cullen kissed the top of her head, a finger skimming the length of her ear, sharing in the blissful aftermath.  “No.  It was perfect.  You are perfect.  I never thought I would ever feel this way about anyone.”

She hummed against his skin, her consciousness fading quickly.  She draped a limp arm over his chest, hugging him tighter.  “I love you.”

“I…“  Sleep came down like a weighted ax, cutting off his words.

***

Harella stood on the balcony, overlooking her fortress.  Had she known how many more would flock to the Inquisition with such tempting honey as kind word and deed, she would have played that part from the beginning.  Less fun, but the end would have been worth it.  Regardless, now things were falling into place beautifully.  The powerful and mighty of Orlais were being brought into the fold of the Inquisition, their fates intertwining together.  All the better for when she crushed them beneath her boot. 

Strolling back into the bedroom, she swayed her hips more than necessary, enjoying the control over this body.  Inside was dark, but moonlight sliced across the room and rested on the oversized bed.  There he was, sprawled out, energy spent.  Not even the constant chill off of the Frostbacks coming through the balcony doors could douse the fire of his withdrawal symptoms enough that he would resort to using a sheet.  Naked, vulnerable, and a delicious feast for the eyes, Harella sighed longingly at the Templar that almost got away. 

“Oh, Cullen.”  Harella began at his ankle and dragged a sharp fingernail up his body as she walked beside the bed.  She licked her lips with a thick moan watching his muscles twitch under her finger.  As soon as she was even with his shoulders, she stopped to draw a circle around the brand she had burned into his chest. 

“I have been so patient.  I almost had you in Kinloch, but you got away, more’s the pity for you.  Hunting you down has been worth it.  **You** belong to **_me_.** ”  Bending over, she took his lips in hers, brutally violating him.  Knowing that the drugged wine from earlier would keep him out for hours, she bit clean through his bottom lip, leaving a small bloody slit that oozed at a swift pace. 

“Despair will always find you my pet.  Happiness is never meant to last and I will enjoy ripping this life away from you. It will be horrifically painful and an utter delight for me.”  Before she brought herself upright, the Despair demon laid a delicate kiss on his forehead, grinning against his skin.  “This is my promise, sweet thing.”


	20. Despair Rears its Ugly Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short update but I felt bad that I haven't updated in so long. Real life along with work on [Light and Casual](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4685450/chapters/10695395) have been a huge distraction. I'm hoping to fall into a better rhythem now that things are settling back home. **fingers crossed**

_May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces._

_Such as they are.  We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through._

_~~~~_

_A life of service and sacrifice.  Are Templars also expected to give up…physical temptations?_

_Physical?  Why would…ahem, why…well, some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required._

_Have you?_

_Maker’s breath!  Can we speak of something else?_

_I was actually enjoying our topic.  Human modesty is a delight to play with.  Would you feel more comfortable knowing some embarrassing stories about me?_

_I doubt that is possible Herald, but I won’t stop you if you are determined._

_~~~~_

 

Ashes woke as the first rays peeked over the mountains giving her quarters a dull glow.  Her dreams were becoming clearer, distinct memories becoming drawn out episodes of her life.  _Her_ memories.  It was frightening, the pressure in her chest fluttered with her rising heartbeat.  Remembering that Cullen had come to bed with her eased her mind as she placed a hand on his chest.

It didn’t move.

Denying what that meant, she spun in the bed, staring at his back as he lay on his side. 

Trembling fingers found unknown strength to pull him flat on his back, revealing a blood soaked pillow, unresponsive eyes, and heavy limbs, blood stained his face and caked in his golden hair. 

_No, this…this isn’t supposed to happen._

Repeating the lie in her mind didn’t negate the facts that she remembered as Fate.  Death was a likely outcome from lyrium withdrawal.  Stress, despair, pain, all of it accumulating to the point that he physically couldn’t withstand the bombardment.  She had watched him die numerous times.  None of those instances caused the crushing pain she felt now. 

_But things were getting better, he was happy._

Turning her back to him, she clutched a pillow, sobbing wet and loud into the fabric.  She never heard the door open.

“Inquisitor.  I hope that I am not intruding, but I received some reports that…”  Leliana couldn’t have stopped more abruptly if she had hit a wall.  Her typical look of disdain replaced with mild shock.  “What have you done?”

Rocking at the edge of the bed, Ashes could only shake her head as hot tears fell down her cheeks.  Leliana marched up to her, her grip like a vice as she jerked Ashes off the bed.  “You killed him!  You wretched abomination, you killed him!”

Her pain at hearing the words made Ashes’ crying more explosive.  There was no strength to stand steady, there were no words to defend herself.  Leliana began to wrench at Ashes’ arm, pulling her toward the door.   Ashes began to resist when she registered going with Leliana would mean leaving Cullen behind.  

“No!  I can’t leave him!  No, please!”

Leliana pinched Ashes’ arms behind her back, applying perfect pressure to inflict enough pain to cull Ashes’ protests.  “I will make this much worse if you don’t come with me right now demon.”

Leading her through the great hall, Ashes kept her head down but knew it didn’t hide anything.  It was obvious to anyone who had eyes.  She was a prisoner in the custody of the indomitable Nightingale.  The only person who dared to delay the renowned spymaster was Josephine.

“Get out of my way Josephine.”

“What has happened?  Where are you taking her?”  Josephine was the only one of them to keep her tone hushed, conscious of the prying eyes and ears of every noble loitering about. 

Shoving Ashes forward to barge past the Ambassador, Leliana resumed her march as she spoke blandly.  “The Inquisitor had murdered the Commander.”

This left Josephine stunned behind them.  After a few moments, Ashes fully understood Leliana’s accusation.

“No!  I didn’t do anything.”  Pain cut her short as Leliana adjusted her grip.  Ashes reached for the Fade and found nothing.  It was just beyond her reach, a glass on a top shelf that only her fingertips could tease.  “What have you done to me?!”

“After the way you built this Inquisition, do you really think I would let you continue to roam free with impunity?  The binding collar around your wrists takes away your precious advantage, blood mage.  I will not allow you to have power over us.  Not anymore.  Your reign has come to an end.”  Another rough shove pushed Ashes in the direction of the dungeons.

***

“…and then, no shit, Hawke comes around the corner, blood all over, and says, “Nope!  Ignore me.  Those are not meant to be pets!”  Varric chuckled while Bull laughed full bodied. 

The tavern was fairly quiet during the early hours of the morning and made for a good time to catch up without the haze of alcohol getting in the way.  Bull and Varric had chosen a table on the second floor for added privacy.

“I knows a secret, I knows a secret!” 

“Shut up you idiot!”  Bull snatched Sera by the collar and shoved her in the corner.  “I thought you would have worked on your stealth after Dalish and Skinner tackled your skinny ass in the Graves.”

Sera only giggled with a broad toothy grin as she righted her chair to sit comfortably.  “You want to know what Quizzy and Cully-wully were up to last night?”  Amazingly enough, her smile continued to grow.

“That’s not much of a secret there Buttercup.”  Varric slid his plate closer to finish the meal that was interrupted by his story telling.  “Although, details might be of educational value.”

“Wot?  Ew!  No, his man-bits were much too involved for that to be any good.  Besides, it’s what happened after that’s the really good part.  But there’s a before that happens first which is part of the after, but not as good if you leave out the before.”

“Haha, slow down.  Just tell us what happened as it happened.  That’s always a good start.”  Varric finally took his first bite of the now cold meal. 

“I heard a rumor going through the kitchens about some wine bein’ left in miss high-in-mighty’s room.”  Bull grumbled at the insult, but Sera ignored him with ease.  “I checked it out.  Only super strong sleeping draught but it gets me thinking I should watch an’ see what that shite is about right?  The two of thems come in and…”  Sera sticks out her tongue while her fingers interlocked, sliding them back and forth together to vaguely resemble a coupling. 

“Thank the Maker I don’t include illustrations in my writings.”

“Shut it!  I’m the one telling a story now.”  Abandoning her finger puppet show, Sera pressed on.  “Shite really got strange when a few hours later I saw Leliana showin’ up in their room, talking all creepy like then biting Commander Uptight’s lip off.”

“Bit it off?!”  Varric spat out what little food he had in his mouth.

“Not all the way, just enough he bled like a virgin on her weddin’ night.  Big damn mess all up in the bed an’ all.”

Shaking his head, Bull was carefully considering ever detail that Sera offered.  “I don’t understand.  What would that accomplish?  It doesn’t make sense.”

“Nuthin’ made any more sense when she waited for your Quizzy to wake up, crying all babbly an’ shite, thinking she dun somethin’ to kill ‘em.  Then bitch-mysterio goes an’ drags her off to the dungeons calling her a murderer an’such.”

Bull and Varric stood suddenly, knocking the furniture over in their haste, both cursing, rushing to get out of the tavern.  Confused, Sera followed, calling out for an explanation.  “Wot?  What is it?”

Pulling out Bianca, Varric nocked a few arrows before answering.  “Bad news Buttercup.  We need to make sure our Inquisitor stays our Inquisitor.”   

***

“A few drops in the wine, the second dose given while he sleeps, the final pieces moving into position.”

Cullen struggled to wake up.  He wasn’t sick and wasn’t burdened with his typical withdrawal symptoms.  What happened that would have caused him to be fumbling like this?

“The poison made it seem as though you were dead.  Now Harella has made her final move.  She wants the Inquisition back.”

Cullen’s body tried to leap from the bed at the mention of that dreaded name, but only succeeded in crumpling to the floor.  “Cole, help me.”

Crouching next to him, Cole managed to lift Cullen up and support him with an arm across his thin shoulders.  Cullen was impressed with Cole’s strength considering his size and soft spoken manner.

“We must hurry.  Harella is going to try and take the mark away for herself.”

Their progress was slow as Cullen’s legs refused to listen to the urgency beating in his chest.  “Take it away?”  An acidic bile rose in his throat.  “Has she taken over the Inquisitor’s body?”

“No.  Harella has a new one now.  The Nightingale is no more.  Her song has died.  There is only Despair.”

The pile of armor and sheathed sword were almost within reach.  The distinct sounds of fighting in the courtyard below drifted in through the open windows.  It escalated quickly as more people became involved.  The fear of the chaos had Cullen pushing with all his strength, but he was only met with meager effect.  The sword now seemed a mile away.


	21. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last trip to the Fade to conclude the journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! Happy birthday to this fic. About time I finished it, shit.

The fighting erupted behind them.  Leliana cursed, “Bitch is too early.”

A deep voice managed to roar over the din outside.  “Get back here traitor!” 

“Bull!”  Ashes fought harder, tugging and kicking, seeking any means to wrench herself free. 

Leliana ripped off the restraining cuffs and pressed her thumb painfully into the green mark on Ashes’ palm.  The pain was paralyzing to the point she was unable to defend herself as the Spymaster manipulated the magic within the mark to open a fissure to escape the certain doom that The Iron Bull was promising as he advanced. 

Ashes vision was hazy once again, it was frightening how familiar the Fade was becoming.  “Leliana, what have you done?”

“I believe that we may dispense with the formalities.  The person you refer to has been long gone.  Ever since the Divine was killed in the conclave, this mortal was consumed with grief, filled with self-doubt, unable to justify the tragedy with the concept of a loving Maker.  After you showed up after that botched spell Solas cast, taking over her body was too easy.”  The exposed demon chose to keep Leliana’s form, as well as Ashes’ hand.  She turned it over examining it from every angle.  “This will be mine.  It shouldn’t take long to find a weakness in the connection.  Worst case, I could just kill you and sever it from your body.”

The world around Ashes hummed to life.  Power crushed against her body as the demon made the first attempt to remove the mark.  With so much Fade energy around her, she tried to tap into it, find way to get some distance between them.

“Give it up.  Here, I am master.”

“So you think.”  Both women jerked their heads around to find Cullen slung between Cole and Solas.  It was clear that holding his head up was a trying task in itself.

The demon released Ashes as she laughed at the former Templar.  With a snap of her fingers the desolate area took on a new shape.  The group found themselves inside a stone building, the sulfuric smell of blood flooded their senses.  The floor was impossible to see through all the bodies littered throughout.  Ashes threw her hand up to her mouth, struggling to keep from vomiting at the scene.

“You.  I haven’t forgotten about you sweet thing.”  Leliana swayed her hips as she approached Cullen.  “I also know you haven’t forgotten about this.  Their lives lost because you were not strong enough, were not bold enough to do what was needed.  Coward.  Everyone who works for the Inquisition is your better, even this filthy blood mage.”

Solas spoke confidently and evenly, “Spirit.  I would tread lightly were I you.  He has defeated you once.”

“He got lucky once.”

“No.  I had help.”  With a brilliant grin Cullen leveled his gaze at the demon, their surroundings shifting and changing form.  The old Circle and bodies disappeared.  Replaced by the snow covered Haven before Corypheus’ dragon destroyed it.  “This is where you took her.  This is where you took advantage of the destruction of the Conclave to possess Ashes.”

“How?  How are you doing this?  YOU’RE NO MAGE!”

“I remember.”  At his final words, Cullen stood straighter and held out his hand.  The gesture caused the ground to rise around the demon, vines coiled around her body as she struggled helplessly, screaming obscenities.  Cullen slowly curled his fingers into a fist as he found his footing.  Finally standing on his own, he shed the assistance of Solas and Cole.  “We beat you before, you just never knew it.”

With a final sneer, the vines cinched impossibly tight, causing the demon to explode in liquid mess of guts.  Cullen exhaled – relieved that it was finally over.  He took one step towards Ashes, but his knee gave way.  Cole and Ashes rushed to help him. 

Solas folded his hands behind his back, rocking on the balls of his feet.  “My sincerest regrets Inquisitor.  I wish that I had been able to uncover this earlier.”

“What just happened?  How could he do that?”

“Because you taught him.”  Ashes was struck speechless.  “Let me see if I can explain sufficiently and succinctly.  After the Conclave Despair took advantage of the pressure you felt taking on the role of Inquisitor.  Forcing your spirit out in exchange for its own.  During your time in the Fade, you became a spirit of Fate.  As there is no concept of time in the Fade, you were able to see all, and yet you chose to focus on our Commander.”  Solas coughed with a teasing grin into his hand before continuing.  “When you found him years ago under attack by the Despair demon, you taught him how to manipulate the Fade which caused him to be the only Templar to survive.  You were put back into your original body by the spell my Spirit friends gave me, which in turn forced Despair to find a new host.  Now i know why they recommended that particular one, to restore you to your rightful place.”

It was all so overwhelming and yet, seemed so true.  The fringes of her memory were trying to make the story stick, to force out something that would give her some tangible evidence to corroborate Solas’ story.

“His armor shines so bright, his strength unwavering.  I do not deserve to be here.”  Cole quietly spoke to no one in particular, but it was clear who’s mind he was reading.

A hot flush took over Ashes face.  That thought… “I was by the docks…watching Cullen train the recruits…I-I never felt worthy…”

She started to shake her head but Cullen captured it, stilling the motion with a heated kiss.  The wet warmth of his mouth was invigorating - an elixir made just for her.

“Please.  Don’t.  You came for me, you saved the few remaining mages at the tower.  You restored the Inquisition to what it should be.  You are worthy of everything you have earned.”

His words were so sincere and his eyes perfect pools of adoration, Ashes nearly became lost in the moment, until she gasped.  “The Inquisition!  We need to get back!”

She held her hand out to Solas who helped her focus the energy in the Mark.  Cullen held her tight against him to whisper in her ear, _“We will succeed.  You will lead us there.”_

 

By the time the group emerged from the dungeons, the battle was well in the Inquisition’s favor.  Scout Harding had taken command of the forces in Cullen’s absence.  Bull and his Chargers kept the battle contained in the main courtyard, preventing it from spreading into the narrow halls of the castle. 

Cullen was still leaning on Ashes when they approached Harding at the end.  The scout’s bright smile put a twinkle in her eye, “Commander, arrived just in time.  I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with the cleanup efforts.  It’s good to see that you’re alive.”

A recruit materialized from thin air and relieved Ashes of her duty.  “I’ll finish up here, you find Josephine and let her know what happened.”

Ashes pressed one last kiss to Cullen’s cheek before seeking out her other advisor.  In the privacy of the Ambassador’s office, she relayed everything that happened in the Fade, her history and the fate of Leliana.  The Antivan took her death hard, but was still able to think clearly about how the Inquisition should proceed.

“No one can know you were ever possessed.  We’ll circulate a story that it was the Desire demon in Leliana this whole time, using some magic to manipulate you.”  Josephine paused to catch her breath, holding back her emotions.  “It’s for the best.  I’m sure Solas and Dorian can help us make the story plausible.”

Within an hour, a speech was prepared and delivered to the gathered nobles and soldiers who suffered only minor injuries.  Emphasis was placed on defeating Corypheus and focusing efforts on rooting out the last of Gaspard’s army.  The blow dealt that day was enough to sway many nobles who had previously been on the fence to finally choose a side.  The one most likely to win.  The late afternoon was passed with Josephine at Ashes’ side to appease the nobility and then finally make an escape to visit the injured in the infirmary. 

As the sun set, many of the soldiers fell into a well-earned sleep, whether it was drug induced or not.  It had been a long day for everyone.  Ashes excused herself to the healers and dragged her tired feet up to Cullen’s tower.

She found the Commander sitting at his desk, still in the loose shirt from earlier.  “You look like you were dragged out of bed moments ago.”

“It actually feels like it was days ago.”  Cullen set down a stack of papers and rubbed at his eyes. 

“How do you feel?”

“Better, actually.  I could have donned my armor earlier, but with the day coming to an end, it seemed pointless.”

Ashes grinned at him playfully as she strode around his desk, plopping herself in his lap and wrapping her arms over his shoulders.  “If I recall correctly, you left all of that in my quarters.” 

She kissed him, sucking on his lower lip when she pulled back to then attack his neck with more.  She breathed hot against his neck and rolled her hips against his.  He sucked in a sharp, stuttering breath that trailed off into a moan.

“Well, I can’t be out of uniform two days in a row.”

Ashes giggled as she leaned back, hanging off his neck.  “If you think you’re getting that back for free, you’d best reconsider.”

Cullen firmly gripped Ashe’s firm buttocks, lifting her lithe frame easily as he stood.  “And what should I expect the fee to be?”

“Love me.”  She had meant to sound flippant, a little teasing but she was so worried at his answer that it rang with the true vulnerability that she felt.

Cullen set her down on his desk delicately, freeing a hand that cupped her face.  His kiss was chaste, pure, and devout all at once.  “Always.”


End file.
